


Selfish Prayers

by sunaddicted



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Aphenphosmphobia, Dark, Flower Crowns, High Priest! Q, I'm extremely mean to Q, Kidnapping, King!James, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Phobia of touching, Poor Q, Psychological Torture, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Silva is the leader of the rebels, Slow Build, Symbolism, The Cult, it's complicated - Freeform, the empire, there will be sex in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-05-16 06:13:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5817229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunaddicted/pseuds/sunaddicted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why do they always make them look like glorified whores?" James muttered, shivering as he remembered the late High Priest - an odious fat man that had been made leader of the Cult at the questionably venerable age of sixty-seven - thusly clothed; at least, he was thankful that the new High Priest was such a finely boned and handsome boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fellowshipofthegay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fellowshipofthegay/gifts).



> This strange world wouldn't have come to life without the support and beta-reading of my lovely murder wife @fellowshipofthegay! Thank you love for brainstorming with me and bearing with my constant second guessing of every sentence, you're wonderful and amazing ♥  
> I hope you'll enjoy this world as much as I'm enjoying crafting it.

_1_

Q impassively watched the late High Priest being reverently lowered on a massive pyre, nestled in excessively colourful bouquets and his lifeless body shrouded by a thick veil bathed in perfumed oils that aimed at hiding the sickly sweet stench of decay: rotting flesh and withering flowers subtly poisoning the air underneath the choking scents of myrrh and sandalwood.

In such a glorious way his tormentor disappeared from the land of the living, his mortal spoils being honoured in a great bonfire in front of the steps of the Temple, a great multitude of acolytes crying his passing while already speculating about the new leader of the Cult.

Even the King, a notorious infidel, was paying his formal respects to the late High Priest, ensconced in the middle of his security detail and looking politely bored by the psalms being chanted. Q didn't spare his blond hair and icy-blue eyes more than a perfunctory glance, already familiar with the stern face of the Empire's ruler.

"You could be bothered to show some emotion, Q" Bill whispered louder than he normally would, keeping a safe distance from the other's skin.

As if a switch had been flicked in his brain, the painfully beautiful face of the young priest was distorted by pain faked so perfectly that seemed he truly was being clawed at by grief - an expertly carved mask that naturally fit over his sharp features.

"That's mildly scary" Bill remarked, sadness and regret dripping from his words: they should have never let the High Priest free reign with Q's upbringing, especially since they all were aware of their leader's mad vision of manipulating the boy into the Eternal's perfect vessel. Nobody but him had been cleared to touch the child, not even to feed or bathe him - Bill shivered at the terrible idea of what touching might have entailed once Q had grown into a withdrawn boy that screamed whenever someone even hinted at ruffling his endearing curls or absentmindedly bumped into him, signs of abuse so clearly etched allover him.

"You wanted emotion" Q pointed out, his jade-green irises never straying from the corpse of the man who had brought him up. He was glad Bill had practically ordered him to show some grief since he was having trouble to refrain from displaying the odd mix of hatred and relief bubbling in his stomach.

Bill sighed and stepped closer to Q, making sure their robes didn't brush one against the other "He wasn't a good man, Q"

"May the Eternal forgive the blasphemy you just sprouted"

"May the Eternal forgive the soul of the man who cruelly abused you"

Q blanched and clenched his fists, burying his short nails in the tender skin of his palms, using the pain to centre himself: nobody spoke of his abuse, it was an untold rule of the Cult - especially since nobody had ever tried to save him from having the need of human contact beaten and fucked out of his body "Hardly a topic of conversation at a funeral, isn't it?" he spat out, barely moving his lips so that nobody could read the words blossoming on his mouth.

"I just want you to understand that what was done to you is nowhere near what the Eternal would have wanted nor what any decent human being would have condoned" Bill sentenced sternly.

Q shuddered, keeping himself from falling apart in front of everyone "I know: child abuse hardly is holy and natural" It didn't change the fact he couldn't bear someone touching him without his consent - and the mere idea of sex was enough to give him nightmares: the High Priest had irremediably ruined him, created the perfect vessel for the Eternal making sure another's touch would never spoil his purity.

"You know there's people you can talk with, doctors that are specialised into dealing with traumas" Bill suggested, studying how the flickering orange flame licked at the corpse, hungrily consuming the flesh bloated with consumption.

"My kind of trauma is slightly different from that suffered from soldiers coming back from war" Q shrugged "Besides, if I talked about my childhood there would be a scandal to deal with"

Bill wished he could deny the last resigned statement, but nodded his agreement "You'll be touched during the ceremony" he changed the topic to the mass following the funeral during which the Cult would present Q as the new High Priest.

Q shivered "I know, I'm honestly considering to take some drugs" he admitted, internally cringing at the prospect of hands stroking his skin to paint white, golden and crimson arabesques on his face and hands; maybe he could have managed a single and trusted person such as Bill Tanner touching him, but a throng of priests who barely acknowledged the abuse he had suffered was an horrifying prospect.

Bill shot a quick glance at the young man standing next to him to ascertain whether he was being serious - not that Q had ever been known as someone inclined to joke "I don't think intoxication would do any good to your health"

"Neither would having an hysterical breakdown" Q reasoned rather coldly.

"Go in your new chambers and do it yourself, who cares about tradition" Bill suggested; everyone was aware of Q's phobia of touch and he didn't imagine a cacophony of voices would rise against his idea: no-one wanted to tarnish the public image of the Cult with an High Priest falling apart at the seams "Come on, I'll tell you what to do"

Q contemplated the burning corpse for a few seconds, inhaling the nauseating and oily tang of the thick smoke clouding above the pyre: it made his eyes water and his throat burn, prompting a few dry coughs from his lungs "I would have loved him like a son"

"He should have cherished you like a father" Bill said comfortingly, his fingers itching to squeeze his elbow to ground him.

"Or maybe I just was an unlovable child" Q mused bitterly, voicing one of the worries that had always gnawed at his brain. He had been abandoned on the steps of the Temple when he had been barely two years old: too old to forget life with a family and too young to recall his parents' faces; they must have found something inherently wrong with him for choosing to throw him away - poverty clearly hadn't been a reason since the High Priest had shown him the luxurious clothes he had been wearing that day.

Bill shook his head "Q, it wasn't your fault"

The young man ruefully smiled at him "I guess I'll wait for Judgement" He tentatively offered Bill a trembling hand "You're a good friend"

The older priest quickly caressed those outstretched fingers, not taking advantage of Q's trust "Let's go and make you the High Priest"

* * *

James dispassionately observed the priests carefully swathe the boy in richly embroidered robes, crowning him as the High Priest of the Cult with a golden circlet and fresh reddish-orange roses and startlingly blue passionflowers that almost disappeared amongst his unruly curls; a hauntingly morbid melody was played in the depths of the Temple and prayers were muttered with utmost devotion and blind faith; incense sensually curled around them and made the acolytes' eyes watery-red while finely shrouding the sad features of the High Priest, painted in gold and white arabesques while his plush mouth had been highlighted in pasty crimson; jade-green irises transfixed themselves on the sunrays that bathed the smoky inside of the Temple and shone upon the golden circlet, giving life to an illusory halo and gifting the youngest High Priest ever with some apparent divinity.

For his part, James just saw a barely legal youth being exploited by the Cult to attract more acolytes and show its willingness to change and evolve, stepping into the present: an age ruled by revolutionaries that wished nothing more than enclose in a crypt the older generation with all of its paraphernalia and ghosts in order to establish a new order - hadn't he been one of those despised relics, King James would have gladly supported the downfall of the Cult.

With a barely concealed sigh and a subtle cough to clear his throat from the burning of the spicy incense - lavender and cinnamon, twirling together in an obscenely decadent cloud that did nothing to suggest the High Priest's supposed holiness and untouched purity - the King shifted on his upholstered seat, trying to stretch his cramping muscles and alleviate the boredom: his body was one of an active person - one of a ruthless warrior - and stillness was unsuited to his energetic disposition; he had spent the whole morning watching a pyre burn and now he had to sit through the first mass of the new High Priest, wasting his time to appease the Cult.

As if sensing his restlessness, his advisor gently nudged his arm with a pointy elbow, even as he kept himself focused on the words being sprouted by the High Priest "Not too long before the end of the ceremony, your Highness" Mallory whispered, somewhat comfortingly, well-aware of the King's short temper when it came to matters of religion: he had never been a believer, not even when his poor mother - the late Queen Monique - had entrusted him to the care of a priest to educate his young soul.

"Why do they always make them look like glorified whores?" James muttered, shivering as he remembered the late High Priest - an odious fat man that had been made leader of the Cult at the questionably venerable age of sixty-seven - thusly clothed; at least, he was thankful that the new High Priest was such a finely boned and handsome boy.

Alec, the head of his personal guard, mutely snickered under the cover of his hand plastered over his mouth and faked muttering a prayer.

Mallory nudged him again, harder and aiming at bruising "Not here where you could be heard, if you please your Majesty"

James shifted again on his seat and pointedly observed the High Priest raise his arms in an empty invocation as he threw his head back and distended his throat, a melodious and baritonal voice escaping from that pallid and fragile neck in breathtakingly powerful hymns: he definitely could sing and enthrall his audience.

"Just like a prized concubine" Alec observed, eyes twinkling merrily "He would look good in an harem, that willowy body draped in sheer veils and dancing to an exotic tune" he added with a playful leer that wrought a chocked laugh out of James.

"Could you two shut up with your blasphemies?!" the advisor hissed, hand twitching with the temptation of smacking the two men, like he used to when as children they had been entrusted in his care; watching them grow up, he had known the two would be an awful handful but sometimes they still managed to surprise him with their idiocy - especially James: apparently, becoming King had done nothing to make him more tactful when it came to politics.

Mallory looked again at the High Priest, listening to his the prayers that sounded more like longing poetry when dripping from that sad mouth; for once, it seemed that the leader of the Cult cared more about religion than his predecessors and Mallory hoped the young man would be able to bring the Cult back to its origins, eradicating corruption and vice from the older clerics and establish a decent relationship with the Empire - supposing that James didn't immediately antagonise him and tried for some kind of dialogue. He glanced at the King and took in the way his pale irises twinkled with interest as they roved over that lithe and willowy body, probably picturing him as cheap catamite ready to jump in the King's bed - he would need to have some words with James, make sure to get through his thick skull that the High Priest wasn't going to be one of his bedwarmers.

Alec sighed in relief when the music lulled to a stop and the last syllables fell into silence, shattering in a gentle murmuring, and the High Priest lowered his arms to walk around the altar and face the throng of acolytes waiting for his words: the mass was almost to its end.

Jade-green eyes scanned the crowd and crimson lips were manipulated in a benevolent and empty smile "Well met" he debuted, his speaking voice less impressing than his singing one "It's with hesitancy that I take place as your guide, trembling in the steps of my great predecessors; my voice is thin and my words are inadequate, poor instruments with which I hope to show you the Path to Judgement" he paused to take in a deep breath and the smile warmed, melting at the corners "It's who I am and I offer it all to you" A brief bow of his crowned head signalling the ending of his brief and self-deprecating speech, strategically hiding to the acolytes his face and whatever emotion might have been playing over his features.

A rounded and smiling priest in the background clapped his hands first "Well met, High Priest Q"

The Temple echoed with the greeting and the cheerful applause of the faithful crowd.

"Q: what a strange name" James mused, politely standing as everyone else in the Temple "Fitting, though"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Passionflowers are the symbol of faith, holy love and religious fervour.  
> Orange roses stand for fascination.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't care about being liked" Q cleared "He could curse my name with every single breath the Eternal has seen fit to bestow in his lungs and I wouldn't care - it's mutual respect what I'm trying to achieve"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First meeting, yeay! I'll leave this here for you while I try to finish writing the 4th chapter lol  
> As usual, beta'd by my lovely wife @fellowshipofthegay

_2_ __

Q primly sat in the receiving room annexed to his private chambers, waiting for the King to come and pay his respects as tradition dictated; Q would have gladly procrastinated the moment he was forced to swallow his nerves and face the most intimidating man he had ever glanced at: with his large and muscled shoulders and the perpetually frowning mouth, King James emanated a disquieting aura that made Q feel like a terrified child again. Bill, as attentive as always, offered him a cup of steaming tea that he gratefully accepted, sipping from it with care in order to avoid smearing the rouge over his lips and letting its warmth soothe his high-strung nerves "Most pathetic speech ever" he sighed tiredly, cringing as he recalled his own words "Thanks for the encouraging applause, though"

Bill rolled his eyes while fluffing a thick cape over Q's trembling shoulders, the ceremonial robes not doing much to keep him warm "It was humble and genuine - it's something people like"

"Hardly impressive" Q pointed out.

Bill's retort was cut off by the entrance of the High Priest's security detail: a handful of guards that would make sure the Empire didn't attempt at the High Priest's life; the relationship between the two authorities had always been strained and the odd tale of assassination on both parts made its grim appearance in their history - it meant the King and his party were going to set foot in the heart of the Temple in a few moments.

Q rose from his seat, hitching the cape closed on his throat as if to shield himself as much as possible from the glacial gaze of the King, uncaring of the white chalk that would probably stain the brocade. He was taking a deep breath when a perfunctory knock was heard and a priest opened the door to lead in the visitors.

The King's guards were the first to enter, fanning out in the room to efficiently assess its security before lining themselves up along the walls in a attempt at seeming as inconspicuous as possible, giving the illusion they wouldn't listen on any part of the conversation; only a blond and burly man stood in the middle, clearly waiting to stand next to the King and shove himself in harm's way to protect him. A sourly looking dignitary followed, a polite smile plastered on his face pointing out he was some kind of advisor. Lastly, King James made his sombre entrance, his eyes immediately zeroing in on Q and a predatory grin blessing his lips.

Looking at him, clothed in tailored but simple garments, Q felt overdressed in his shimmering robes embroidered with golden thread and the circlet embracing his forehead "Well met, your Highness" he murmured and nodded in greeting instead of offering his hand, keeping it twisted in his cape and out of sight.  
James quirked an eyebrow at the clear wish for physical distance between them "Well met, your Grace" He complied with the silent agreement of no touching and didn't hint at wanting an handshake "Gareth Mallory, my personal advisor, and Alec Trevelyan, head of my personal guards" he introduced briskly, without wasting breath with useless frills or titles.

Q smiled, feeling his facial muscles strain with tension "Honored to be making your acquaintance. Please, take a sit" he invited as refreshments were brought into the room and artfully disposed on the table in front of his guests "Help yourself"

"Thank you for your kindness, your Grace" Mallory sat closer to James than it was proper, so that he could jam his elbow in his ribs without being noticed and grabbed the pitch of chilled water, busying himself with pouring some in their glasses "My congratulations and best wishes for your new position in the Cult"

"Thank you. As I said, I hope to be worthy of such a responsibility" Q sat in his chair but kept his back ramrod straight, trying to look more imposing than he was: the three men in front of him had a military demeanour clinging to them, clearly as dangerous as any other soldier in the room "In particular, it's one of my wishes to have a more open and peaceful relationship with the Empire: in these troubled times, allies have more value than enemies"

James cocked his head to the side to better observe the young High Priest, analysing the words he had just hung in the air between them "You speak well, your Grace, but putting your words in practice might not be that simple" he challenged and snagged a pastry from the tray, sliding the bite-sized sweet morsel into his mouth.

Q frowned "I can't see why it should be so" The petty squabbling between the Cult and the Empire had never made any sense to him; true, the King wouldn't probably manage to rule if he didn't at least show some regard to the Cult, but rarely the two institutions meddled in the same matters "Your Highness has the birthright to rule the Empire, while I take care of its citizens' souls: our spheres of influence are quite different"

At those words Mallory perked up, his interest titillated by the sound reasoning of the young man, who clearly didn't realize how liberal was his thinking compared to the rest of the clerical body "Are you aware that the Empire has been obliged to pay a tax to the Cult, your Grace?"

"I was raised in these sacred halls" Q offered as an affirmative answer "If it's mere a tax keeping us at war, the issue is easily fixed: the Cult could use some modesty"

"Says the man dressed better than than the King" James provoked, earning himself an elbow in his side.

"Flashier perhaps, surely not better - your Highness' garments are not those of a commoner" Q politely pointed out, letting a bit of bite seep in his words: he was young, but he wouldn't let the King stomp allover him.

James let a startled laugh escape his throat, leaning over the table to study the endearing enigma the High Priest represented "You're right, of course" he conceded: it wasn't a secret his clothing was tailored and of an high quality "What's the name of the blue blossoms adorning your curls, your Grace?"

Subconsciously, Q's fingertips brushed against the petals under the disguise of getting a strand of hair out from his forehead "Passionflowers" he answered while trying to predict towards which new and bizarre direction the King was steering their conversation "Would you.. Would you like one, your Highness? Though, I'm afraid they've already started to wilt" The offer came out clearly tentative, but Q wouldn't certainly feel the loss of a passionflower - not when the hothouse was brimming with them - and the King seemed to be inexplicably fascinated by the exotic flowers crowning his head. His digits easily plucked one without dismantling the whole garland and he offered it to the King, mentally preparing for the inevitable brushing of fingers that would occur.

James made sure not to make contact with the High Priest's chalked hand as he accepted the wilting flower "I've never seen such a splendid work of art" he said while keeping eye contact with the younger man, searching the restless depths of those jade-green eyes.

"Nature is innovative, a constant surprise" Q lowered his gaze and mentally expressed his gratitude for the thick layers of makeup surely hiding the blush he could feel burning on his cheeks.

"Youth is no guarantee of innovation" James sentenced, grimacing as Mallory's elbow once again found its way amidst his ribs.

"And age is no guarantee of efficiency" Q pointed out, hinting at how poorly the King and the late High Priest had fared together, too focused on their bickering to face the consistent threat the subversives posed.

James popped another pastry past his lips and smiled while getting up "We'll get along splendidly, I believe. I think it's time we let you enjoy some rest, your Grace"

The guards filed out of the room, as if a silent order had been whispered in their ears, and Q stood up to bid farewell to the King and his entourage "May the Eternal keep you safe until you're in your home"

"May the Eternal bless your words" Mallory answered before James could make a fool of himself and reveal he knew next to nothing regarding the Cult "I'll look forward our next meeting"

"Likewise" the King drawled, the passionflower still in pinched by his fingertips.

They disappeared without fanfare, followed by the High Priest's own security detail and Q was once again left alone with Bill "I don't know what to make of this meeting" he admitted and picked from the tray on of the pastries the King had seem to be fond of: the lemon-flavoured cream decadently melted on his tongue while his molars gently enclosed over the fragrant and soft shortbread.

"You piqued their interest - obviously" Bill could confirm that the King had never uttered more than a couple of words to the late High Priest each meeting, displaying complete disregard and disinterest in what he had had to say; with Q, King James had seemed to come alive, his voice gladly leaving the prison of his vocal chords to engage Q in a witty and vaguely friendly bantering.

"Just because I'm an infant compared to my predecessors, as the King has so rudely highlighted"

"Maybe in the beginning, but your lashing tongue is probably to blame for the attention the King payed to you" Bill sat on one of the sofas, relaxing his tensed muscles while wishing Q wouldn't work himself up over such trivialities: in the end, if he didn't manage to make peace between the Cult and the Empire, no-one would have suffered more than before "The King is no politician, Q: he would have made it clear, if he loathed you"

"I don't care about being liked" Q cleared "He could curse my name with every single breath the Eternal has seen fit to bestow in his lungs and I wouldn't care - it's mutual respect what I'm trying to achieve"

"Way harder than being merely liked"

* * *

"James, I swear to the Eternal, the next time you don't shut your mouth I'll choke you with a damned pastry!" Mallory threatened in the safety of the King's private carriage, his voice lowered by a couple of octaves and eyes fiercely glaring at James, who was paying more attention to the withering passionflower than to his words "You were borderline offensive"

Alec teasingly tutted at James, waggling his index finger as if scolding a child "Really, you could have avoided saying he's just a child stepping in the grownups' playground"

"He's more mature than you both put together!" the advisor sighed heavily, massaging his throbbing temples with his fingertips "He seems reasonable and open to having a dialogue"

James hummed, distracted by his own thoughts swarming like a cloud of angry bees in his brain, almost drowning out every noise that wasn't their nearly incessant buzzing "He's different"

Mallory loudly snapped his fingers "James, James look at me" he ordered, voice stern and cutting at the edges "Forget about bedding the High Priest"

"What?" Alec waved his fingers in front of James' eyes to attract his attention "My friend, the High Priest is a no-no" Sometimes his best friend's stupidity amazed Alec: who would even think about bedding someone bound to chastity?

"Why do you always assume I want to fuck every remotely attractive person that happens on my path?"

"Because you do" Alec declared at the same time Mallory pointed out that seducing possibly hostile politicians and other rulers seemed to be James' preferred tactic "Besides, he's a virgin - not exactly your type" Alec added, attempting at throwing a shade upon the nice picture James had probably painted in his mind.

James sighed - something he seemed to be doing a lot that day "For your information I'm not interested in having sex with the High Priest: he's barely a man" Despite trying to sound as convincing as possible, Alec and Mallory still looked at him with doubt creasing their foreheads; well, he was the damn King: he wasn't going to swear on his heart like a child about his intentions regarding the High Priest.

James closed his eyes, signalling the end of their conversation, and regarded the image of the High Priest's face seared in the back of his lowered eyelids: Vesper cheekily smiled at him from those painted lips, hidden just under the cutting features of the boy. 


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't you believe in Evil, your Grace?" The King's voice was a liquid baritone against the shell of Q's rapidly reddening ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, beta'd by the lovely @fellowshipofthegay ♥

_3_

Q was having a nightmare: the bathtub in which he was drowning was filled to the brim with flowers instead of water; drying lichens spotted with a sickly yellow itched on the patches of skin they had claimed and dead leaves rustled under his flaying limbs, withered roses blossomed on his chest and weighed surprisingly heavy on his heaving lungs, bright pink plum and quince blossoms covered every exposed centimetre of his transparent skin, yellow tulips blinded him with their thick petals that couldn't be dislodged by the panicky fluttering of his lashes and white tamarisk flowers gagged his desperate screams.

It felt like a thousands of insects were crawling over his oversensitised skin, parasites pouring out of the wilting blossoms, chased away from the protective and satiny embrace of the petals by the sweet stench of rotting greenery - his blunt nails relentlessly scratched and scratched, leaving behind angry red welts in their attempt at stripping the bones of the flesh cramping with terror.

Q screamed and the buds filled his mouth, bitter and pasty on his taste buds as they obstructed his trachea, closing his air passageways and making his lungs burn with the lack of oxygen.

Despite not being able to see, Q could perceive the hand slipping smoothly through the flowers as if trading through cool water to reach for his left thigh. He immediately recognised the callouses possessively brushing against his skin, scraping at the encrusted lichens and trailing towards his inner thighs, aching to fondle him.

Tears streamed down his cheeks, sticking the petals to his face, and choked pleas bubbled in his strangled throat while he forced his trembling legs closed, knowing that it wouldn't stop the man from touching him.

A shushing noise echoed in the room "Did you truly believe yourself rid of me, my dear Q?" the man asked, not a trace of mockery to be detected.

Hearing that voice, grainy and dry as gritty sand, was disheartening: the fight left his weakening body, limbs falling limp as if he was a puppet to which the strings had been cut. Q loosely curled at the bottom of the bathtub, reciting prayers to the Eternal in his mind to avoid focusing on the lightheadedness scattering his thoughts and the lascivious caresses forced on the tender flesh of his backside.

When a digit trailed up the cleft inbetween the creamy and quivering cheeks of his butt, drily rubbing against the tightly furled muscles of his hole, the nightmare shattered into shimmering dust and Q managed to wake up and let his screams loose into the sticky air of his chambers permeated by the mind-numbing scent of incense and his own sweat.

The guards stationed at the door of his apartments rushed in, eyes sweeping in search of an enemy as Q kept sobbing and shouting himself hoarse, his thin spine shaking so terribly that he felt like it was going to neatly snap in two.

"Your Grace, you need to breathe" someone ordered, someone on which Q couldn't focus - the finger was still toying with the most intimate nook of his body, pushing against the rim to gain access, and another hand gripped a hipbone to keep him still.

Q was going mad, he just wanted the touching to stop! The shadows were creeping at the edge of his vision, staining the twilight in his bedroom with the indigo darkness of nightshades.

"Your Grace, you're safe. You'll hurt yourself if you don't calm down" another voice tried to talk sense into him.

"We'll have to sedate him" There were several strangers in his room and Q could feel their judging eyes staring at him, thirsty for the troubled shards of his soul.

When his eyelids fell closed again, disconnecting him from any sensory input, Q woke in his own mind filled with yellow tulips and the King smiling among them, the light blue of his eyes burning supernaturally bright and resembling fragments of crystal-clear sky fallen upon the Earth.

* * *

Bill watched Q methodically paint his skin white, fingers trembling with exhaustion "It's been a while since you suffered from night terrors" Insomnia had taken the place of Q's horrid nightmares, his brain deciding that avoiding sleep was worth it if it spared him from the morbid attention of his tormentor, who hadn't enjoyed being woken up in the were hours of night by desperate crying.

Q shrugged, his nightgown slipping down a thin shoulder to reveal the stark sharpness of his collarbone and the hollow at the base of his slender throat, vulnerable under the satiny veil of tender flesh "Stress" The meagre and unsatisfactory explanation rolled arid down his tongue, the consonants slipping hard-edged against his teeth before escaping in a shallow hiss. The night had left its clawing marks deep in his innards, ready to scab over and fester with infection and torment him for the rest of his life, a constant presence murmuring at the back of his mind to remind him how worthless he was. A shade of opaque gold was layered over his lips and Q strode behind a paperscreen to slip in the simplest garments he had managed to find in his wardrobe "I'm going to pray in the chapel"

"You should rest" Bill clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in a clear expression of stern disappointment "You'll have to celebrate mass in the late afternoon" he reminded him.

Q donned the brocade cape, making use of the hood to hide the mess of his untamed hair he hadn't even bothered to brush into submission "Contemplating the Eternal will help me to unwind"

"You didn't even eat your breakfast" Bill didn't enjoy being a mother hen, he had never been good at taking care of other people than himself - one of the reasons why he had chosen a life devoted to the Eternal, taking for granted the solitude it entailed. But he had seen Q grow up in the ominous shade of the late High Priest, observed how his intelligence and creativity had blossomed under the care of different and excellent tutors: he felt somewhat paternal towards the child he had often babysat, trying to wrestle a rare laugh out of him.

Q didn't even glance at the small bowl of fruit salad that had been delivered to him for breakfast "Give it to some starving soul" Without a farewell, he walked out of his apartments and confidently made his way towards the small and unadorned chapel he had always preferred for his private prayers; those halls he knew as well as the back of his own hands, even in the darkest hour of night his steps wouldn't waver with doubt and he would reach his destination as quickly as if he had been walking with a map in his hands.

The chapel was blissfully empty. Its decor consisted only of a handful of old wooden chairs covered with splinters, a small and rickety altar that looked ready to collapse under the weight of long-forgotten offerings and a washed out thin rug - it would have seemed a squalid place if not for the sunlight streaming in from a large window, its honey hues making the place look homely instead of abandoned to the termites. As a child he had cherished that barren place, revelling in its safety: nobody ever thought of looking for him in such a desolate and unknown part of the Temple.

Q kneeled in front of the altar and let the cape pool on the dusty floor, revelling in the waves of calmness washing upon his frazzled nerves, as it happened every time he let go of the cruel thoughts in his mind and focused on the soothing prayers he had known since he had been able to speak. Despite the horrible memories that had become entwined with the religious rituals he was so fond of, Q's mind had never stopped finding comfort in the Eternal - even if It hadn't done a thing to save him from the monster posing as Its vessel.

Keeping his eyes fixed on the bright sunrays that transformed the grains of dust into a glimmering cloud of diamonds, Q let the familiar words flow through his brain and numb his synapses, a fleeting and relaxed smile appearing on his face.

* * *

"The Eternal doesn't perceive Good and Evil as we do; removed from this reality, It doesn't concern Itself with our faulty perceptions" the High Priest let his voice ring in the attentive silence echoing in the Temple "Famine. Poverty. Abuse. War. Pain. Horror. Misery. Violence. All the darkest occurrences that come to your mind - nothing matters"

At the corner of his right eye, the High Priest saw the King smirk at his dark and depressing speech, sharing his derision with the blonde man at his side - that Alec Trevelyan who seemed to be more than the head of the King's security detail, if the way the two interacted was anything to go by.

The High Priest ignored them, even as in his mind he muttered a prayer for the infidels "The Eternal waits for Judgement, that glorious time when we will be bare in front of It, our faults and merits, and know whether we'll be granted to contemplate Eternity" Q knew people where comforted by the possibility of their pained existences being rewarded with a second life after their passing, free of all the horrors the Eternal hadn't seen fit to remove while they were alive; in the same way, Q was aware that the Eternal's lack of intervention was what kept the infidels from finding the Path and believing - an understandable reaction; the role of High Priest wouldn't have existed if there hadn't been the need of a vessel to show the way towards the Path, casting light over the murky shadows of the human mind.

The final sentences of his preaching flowed out of his mouth almost absentmindedly, loosing himself in his own musings, and he was startled by the presence of another body at his back as he tidied up the altar.

"Don't you believe in Evil, your Grace?" The King's voice was a liquid baritone against the shell of Q's rapidly reddening ear.

Q didn't spin on his heels to face the King, wanting to avoid giving him the impression such physical closeness was accepted and encouraged "Not in the human definition of Evil, your Highness" he answered as plainly as possible, subtly shifting away from the other's body under the guise of reaching for the thurible smoking at the far corner of the altar.

The King put a couple of steps in between them, letting coolness replace the warmth of his body "What is it Its definition of Evil, then? Does the Eternal frown upon coldblooded murder?"

"Are you asking for thirst of knowledge or in the vain attempt at slandering my faith, your Highness?"

James smiled at the haughty tone leaving the High Priest's golden lips "Apologies, your Grace" he conceded the point: he had wanted to rile up the High Priest, push him in a corner from which he wouldn't have been able to deny the inaccuracies in his religion "I was sent to offer the services of my personal physician: I've heard you're a victim of your own mind during the night"

Q's shoulder visibly tensed under the plain ivory robe billowing around his thin body "I don't know how would you happen to know, your Highness, but I decline your generous offer"

"Servants talk" the King tersely offered as an explanation "Miss Moneypenny is well versed at taking care of haunted sleep, your Grace: I too wander in the dark when I'm trying to rest"

The High Priest sighed and turned towards the King, crossing his arms on his sternum "I'm glad Miss Moneypenny is able to grant you your rest, your Highness, but I'm not in need of her services"

"Are your dreams visions from the Eternal you're obliged to endure or do you just enjoy punishing yourself without reason?" James was fascinated by the workings of the young man's mind and peered deeper into those jade-green eyes to search the sparkling of Vesper's annoyance that he could see etched on the High Priest's features.

Q didn't know how to answer that mocking inquiry, except that none of the sentences were true: he hadn't the gift of channelling the Eternal's vision and he didn't enjoy punishment - not after a childhood shaped by castigation "I simply avoid making use of medication if I can help it"

"Herbal teas and meditation are hardly drugs"

The High Priest cocked his head to the side in disbelief "You don't strike me as the meditative type, your Highness"

"Indeed. Poor Miss Moneypenny found out rather quickly that my disposition doesn't agree with certain treatments" James took a hand out of his pocket and offered the High Priest a fragrant pouch "Though, this blend of chamomile, orange blossoms and lavender helps"

Q took the offering without touching the hand it was resting on and sniffed it suspiciously, resembling a skittish cat that regarded his surroundings in constant distrust; the scents mingled pleasantly together, tickling his nostrils and clouding his mind "Thank you, your Highness"

"Call me James, please"

Q glanced up to read the face of the King "That's not exactly proper" he pointed out, still half-hunched over the pouch.

James smiled "I'll call you Q"

"Not in public" Q immediately lashed out, innerly heating at the idea of someone who wasn't Bill calling him by his given name.

With its glow, satisfaction suited the King's features "Deal. Have a good night Q"

"You too, James"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, so many flowers in this one lol
> 
> Lichens stand for solitude; dead leaves mean sadness; withered roses stand for "Death is preferable to loss of virtue"; plumblossoms stand for fidelity and a reminder for one to keep their promises; quinceblossoms symbolise temptation; yellow tulips are the symbol for a hopeless and perfect love and mean "there's sunshine in your smile"; tamarisk stand for crime; nightshades represent dark thoughts.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The assembly dismembered, its members slinking in the gathering darkness as the last sunrays burned out and left behind only emptiness, no clue whatsoever they had stood on that slice of dusty pavement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, the lovely @fellowshipofthegay beta'd this chapter; I expanded it a bit after she looked over it so, if you find any mistakes, feel free to point them out ♥

_4_

"He's dangerous" An oily voice rolled sweetly in the orange and violet hued evening, getting lost in the rustling wind that ruffled the few wispy clouds scattered in the sky "He doesn't seem much - a weak boy trembling in his father's far too large clothes, wielding the greatest power of influence known in the Empire"

The analytical words were received by a meagre and eerily quiet audience: an handful of hooded figures that tried to look inconspicuous in the dense dusk of a secluded corner, plotting against the Cult in the shadow of the Temple. They listened in perfect silence - a silence so thick and chocking that not even a breath could be heard rattling in their lungs and for all intent and purposes their only function seemed to be that of mere receivers of those words, just ears awaiting for that voice to pour in and spark life in those empty minds.

"The King too must think the young High Priest remarkable: have you seen the way he stood close to him, attempting his lurid seduction right behind the sacred altar?" the voice mused loudly, a lightness to it that suggested amusement "We'll let the King do half of the work for us, getting intimate with the beautiful boy. When the time will come, we'll bring the Cult and the Empire down together in just one swift movement" the voice stated firmly, a strength in its inflection that shrouded the vision it was painting in realness.

The assembly dismembered, its members slinking in the gathering darkness as the last sunrays burned out and left behind only emptiness, no clue whatsoever they had stood on that slice of dusty pavement.

* * *

Alec sat next to James and watched with him the sun flare out of existence for another day; it strangely felt like a deja-vu, which actually was logical if he thought about all those times they had sat in that same spot as children and giggled at some funny reprimand Mallory had sprouted that day "You're restless" he observed.

James shrugged and kept his eyes on the horizon even as sunlight completely disappeared and let a clear darkness dotted with pale stars spread in the sky in the same manner a drop of ink would pollute a glass of water "I am" he conceded: because of being raised together since the tenderest age, brothers in every way that counted but blood, he had never been able to hide from Alec his moods "The quietness from the rebels disturbs me" James admitted in a heaving sigh that clouded white in the cold air.

"Only you would be disturbed by a moment of peace, my friend" Alec teased lightly, clapping James on a shoulder "Make me see what's worrying you"

Since Alec was giving him his full attention without making fun of his gut feeling, James turned towards his friend to face him "Not a day has passed that we haven't been attacked by the rebels. Then the High Priest made the Empire a favour and died and since then they haven't resurfaced"

Alec blinked slowly "You're not theorising that the new High Priest has something to do with it, are you?" He too had never been fond of the Cult - the way the priests were able to manipulate millions of people into believing into a god that blatantly disregarded their pain made Alec shiver in fear and disgust - but he wasn't as ready as James to point an accusing finger in that direction.

James shook his head "No, the Cult is our ally in this predicament. Have you seen how many guards are swarming the Temple these days?" Even during great celebrations such as the funeral of the High Priest and the presentation of his successor, not many military people had been admitted to the Temple: the priests of the Cult were jealous of their secrets in the same way hoarding dragons were protective of their treasures "There were a dozen in Q's private chambers"

"Q's?" Alec asked, confused by the unfamiliar name so easily leaving the King's lips "Oh, the High Priest! Fuck James, why are you calling him by his name? Didn't Mallory tell you to leave the boy alone?" The guard glared darkly, making it clear he was expecting an answer to his inquiries.

"I got his permission" James replied defensively "Calling him your Grace at the end of every sentence was getting annoying" And he had needed a name before slipping up and calling the damn boy Vesper. The sadness simmering gently in Q's absinth coloured irises was the same that had twisted Vesper's tender smiles, both of them haunted by a past shrouded in darkness and unable to escape from it even when standing in the sun; it painted them in an aura of desperate and otherworldly beauty, the taint of unspeakable horrors making them look more human and appealing - James found himself drawn like a moth to the fire, bewitched by the strange taste of unending anguish.

Once Vesper had told him it was a deep-rooted monster, that melancholy showing through her eyes sometimes and that made her serenade the moon with the saddest ballads ever written. James wondered about what Q did to fight the ravenous emptiness in his chest, whether he stared at the ceiling or disappeared in the labyrinth of the Temple to chant his prayers to the Eternal.

"James, he's the High Priest" Alec interrupted the King from his inner musings, concerned by the captivated expression etched on his features. The last time James had looked so enthralled by a human being, he had ended up in love with a member of the rebellion disguised as a courteous and lovely woman: Vesper had fooled them all with her inborn grace and soft-spoken manners "He's bound to the Eternal" Just like Vesper had been bound to the ideal of taking over the government, forever change the natural order of the world.

James shrugged, his disregard for the god so many of his people believed in as clear as day "Did you hear him? He was groomed since childhood to give his life away" It haunted him, the helplessness in Q's voice as he had told them he had been raised in the creepy silence of the Temple: what had happened to his family for him to be left alone in the claws of the Cult? Clearly Q had had no choice about becoming a part of it; his brainwashing had begun early and his mind had always been filled with prayers to the Eternal instead of mindless nursery rhymes.

"As you were" Alec pointed out rather rationally "Just.. Be careful, please"

* * *

Vesper's grave was tucked in a wild corner of the Palace's gardens, forgotten by everyone but James: mould had grown on the ivory tombstone on which her name had been etched, her life reduced to meaningless numbers arranged into a couple of dates; they did nothing to describe the amazing complexities and juxtapositions that had made her such a bewitching human being, capable to ensnare even the most fleeting hearts in her graceful and cruel hands - the perfect agent to send undercover.

He gingerly sat on the humid grass, sparing a thought for his pristine trousers "He looks like you - almost a twin" he started, pausing a few seconds during which he imagined Vesper rolling her eyes at him, mockingly annoyed at his paranoid character "I'm not exaggerating! He even has the potential of being as annoying and ridiculously sassy as you"

Despite the strange quirk of no touching - he had noticed that even the other priest in the room had kept a comforting distance from the High Priest - and the way he rarely looked directly at him, as if the sight of his face physically hurt him, the High Priest had seemed strong-willed and clever.

Q was different, a new challenging riddle to be solved - and to do it, he needed to grow closer to the High Priest, gain his confidence and dive in the depths of his soul, hoping to not get tangled in the languid tentacles of darkness trapped down there, patiently waiting for their prey "I won't fall for him" James muttered, half to himself and half to Vesper's abandoned grave.

He had said the same to Alec when he first had seen Vesper laughing in the mid of the ballroom, everyone's heads turned around to listen to the gentle tinkling of her laughter; she had looked like a goddess with pale pink clematis blossoms braided in her black locks and a startlingly white dress that tinted her skin of a creamy light pink "He's paler than you were, as if he never wanders out in the sun" James refused to believe Q prayed all-day every day, ensconced in the eerily quietness of the almost deserted Temple.

The King huffed, and shifted on the already crumpled grass; talking to Vesper hadn't brought him the comfort he had hoped to receive - the tombstone was an impenetrable wall of emptiness and silence "Well, goodbye Vesper" he awkwardly said his farewell, icy-blue irises skittering away from the grave: he couldn't bear anymore to look at the sad place where Vesper was resting - not then when the only image he could see was her red dress blooming in the frigid and murky waters in which she had drowned.

With quick and efficient strides, James disappeared into the Palace, leaving out in the cold his doubts and grief.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clematis blossoms generally mean mental beauty and cleverness; often, they're used to point out artifice and dishonesty.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's growing cold" Alec acknowledged "You're too thin and lightly dressed for this weather" he commented, pointedly glancing at the garments pretending to sheath the younger man against the embittering cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @fellowshipofthegay is the fasted beta ever and I'm so grateful for her support and suggestions (and I love her so much, in case it wasn't obvious lol)  
> Thank you to all the readers who dropped by to comment, leave kudos or bookmark this story! ♥

_5_

A startled laugh escaped Q's throat, clinking like glass in the crystalline air; surprised by the melodious and cheery sound he had produced, Q dramatically widened his eyes and covered his mouth with an hand in a late attempt at muffling the voice that had already left it "I apologise for my outburst" he asked for forgiveness, lowering his lashes to hide the embarrassment shining in his irises.

That light made Q look human - even under the layers of makeup painted on his features, he finally seemed rid of the perpetual aura of coldness and sadness making him look older than his years. Bill couldn't remember the last time he had seen Q act so carefree and serene; he hoped that, with the death of his tormentor, the young man would bloom as the heavy cloud of constant fear of abuse dispersed from above his head "You don't need to apologise" he remarked, smiling softly "I've heard that laughing is good for health"

"You should have been a physician, my friend: you clearly missed your true calling" Q teased while turning his face towards the sun, soaking up the warmth of its rays: it had been a while since the last time he had been able to go out of the Temple and enjoy the fresh air smelling of humid earth, grass and flowers - it had been a while since he had been free to do as he pleased; the late High Priest had kept him a prisoner in the Temple, the mere idea of someone watching him and appreciating his looks had made him bitter with irrational jealousy. The few times Q had managed to escape his confinement, it had been because the High Priest had entrusted him to Bill's care, who firmly believed nobody could survive without breathing some fresh air once in a while "It's weird, not smelling any incense" Q wrinkled his nose, trying to understand whether he was unsettled or not by the absence of the spicy scents he was so used to.

"Air is not supposed to smell of incense" Bill chuckled as a strange mixture of sadness and joy clutched at his lungs: Q had been brought up so abnormally - a prisoner in his own home - that even smelling fresh air posed as novelty to him.

Q shrugged and peered at the guards watching upon them from a distance in the illusory attempt at giving them some kind of privacy "Do you think they would mind, if I asked them to borrow a horse?" he asked, nodding towards the beautiful stallions pacifically trotting on the slick grass under the attentive gazes of their owners.

"Do you even know how to ride a horse?" Was the obvious question Bill asked, arching an eyebrow in disbelief.

"I believe I do - I'm not sure" Q vaguely remembered riding with some faceless male - his father, he supposed - and snuggling up a muscled and solid chest while he was taught how to hold the reins; he couldn't exactly remember ever riding a horse alone but if he closed his eyes and focused, he could recall the freeing feeling of becoming one with those beautiful animals.

Bill frowned "They wouldn't deny you anything" he exhaled cautiously.

The younger man nodded pensively before letting a smile break the tight line of his closed lips and briskly striding towards the guards, trying not to break character with his excitement: after all, he still was the High Priest and a certain level of composure was expected out of him. The nearer he got to the military men, the blanker he let his face become - only a spectre of pleasantness lingering at the vaguely upturned corners of his mouth - and he exercised more control over his limbs, orchestrating every movement into a subtly graceful and imposing dance "May I bother you asking to borrow one of your horses?" he inquired with a voice that hinted he wasn't expecting a negative answer.

The guards looked at him with a strange mix of respect and perplexity, as if silently inquiring about whether the High Priest was able to keep a pair of reins in his hands. It was a middle aged man who nodded at Q and walked towards the High Priest his black stallion, a massive beast that smoothly prowled over the ground while regarding curiously the human on its path "Do you need any help mounting up, your Grace?"

Q shook his head while he reverently stroked the shiny and soft mane of the horse, trying to establish a connection with it "Such a beautiful animal" he complimented in a soft voice, wanting to avoid startling the horse.

"Plutone is pretty calm, your Grace. He won't unseat you, if you're a firm but gentle conductor" the guard advised him, affectionately patting the muscled flank of his horse.

Q nodded his understanding and mounted the stallion with a graceful jump, his muscle memory kicking in to aid him into seating correctly. A exhilarated breath left him in a huff, the feeling of powerful muscles between his thighs making him feel larger than life, freer than ever "Such a good boy" Q cooed at the horse, smiling happily.

"You're a natural, your Grace" the guard complimented, clearly surprised by the fluidity with which the somehow frigid High Priest had seated himself upon the stallion.

Q could barely contain the laugh bubbling in his lungs and spurred the horse into a relaxed gallop, riding towards Bill who was watching him with amazement etched on his features "Look Bill!" he shrieked like an excited child, giggling happily as he felt the wind brush his wild hair and made his eyes water with its cold stinging "I told you I remembered riding a horse!"

Bill laughed "So you did, Q!"

Q rode away from his friend, eyes fixed on the burning horizon; in winter, the sun seemed to shine brighter than usual, setting everything on a glorious fire. He felt happy and boundless, one being with the horse galloping beneath him: Q's outlines had faded and blurred with the landscape, the cane of flesh of his body finally melting away and leaving his bones bare to the elements, vibrating with the unexpected freedom.

Q was so lost in the hurricane of sensations that he was startled by the rider approaching him, making the black stallion jumpy with nerves; he gently tugged at the reins, making sure of not hurting its mouth, while he turned his head to face the person interrupting his ride "Mr Trevelyan"

Alec smirked his greetings at the High Priest, slowly nearing the younger man and his steed "Good afternoon, your Grace. I'm glad to see you're enjoying the good weather too, his Highness was afraid you spent all of your time ensconced in the Temple"

"Do you talk about me a lot?" Q asked cheekily, steering the horse next to the King's head of security "I'm honoured" he kept joking, innerly wondering about whether the fresh air hadn't gone to his head and made him forget property.

Alec curiously regarded the way the High Priest sat on the back of the horse, looking relaxed and perfectly in control as if he had spent his whole life riding "I'm afraid we're terrible chatterboxes" His voice was as unapologetic as his smile was wolfish "We can't help chatting about the new big fish in the pond"

Q perplexedly arched an eyebrow at the horrible metaphor "I'm not that interesting" he attempted at downplaying his own importance; he was well-aware of being a potential threat at the King's authority with the influence he had over the faithful masses.

"That's what you would like people to think, your Grace" Alec pointed out with a grin, closely observing the High Priest to gauge his reactions; disappointment settled deep in his stomach as he could only witness the polite mask of the cleric in place over those sharp and somewhat boyish features "You're well-aware of the power you wield"

"You're more than mere brawn" Q voiced his opinion, an enigmatic smile playing in his irises.

"I was raised together with James: I could be King if I had the right blood rushing through my veins and cared more about politics rather than weaponry" The blonde shrugged as if he didn't care much about what he had just revealed - and he truly didn't: Alec was faithful to James, not to the Empire; without his adoptive brother sitting on the throne, he wouldn't have cared much about protecting the King and would have probably sold his services to the highest bidder.

"It must have been nice, sharing your childhood with someone" Q knew that not being alone in the Temple would have helped him to grow into a warmer and less damaged man.

"It was" Alec conceded with an honest smile "We drove Mallory insane but it definitely was worth it"

Silence fell between them, a veiled quietness that settled on their bodies like the cold humidity weighing heavily in the air.

Q shuddered and hugged his cloak closer to his lithe frame, burying his chin in the soft furry inner lining while soaking up the warmth of the stallion growing restless with inactivity; he soothingly raked his fingers through the thick mane, enjoying its silky texture under his digits "I should get him back to his rightful owner"

"It's growing cold" Alec acknowledged "You're too thin and lightly dressed for this weather" he commented, pointedly glancing at the garments pretending to sheath the younger man against the embittering cold.

Q sighed and breathed in deeply the shimmering air, eyelids half-closed against the bright sunlight turning the minuscule droplets of water trapped in the atmosphere into a faded rainbow; he immersed himself in nature with the same desperation he had felt as a child, when an afternoon with Bill was ending and he knew he wouldn't get out of the Temple soon again "It was a pleasure, Mr Trevelyan. May the Eternal keep you safe until you're in your home" he blessed before riding back to his party - trying to ignore the feeling of invisible jaws closing over him, metaphorically imprisoning him again in the Temple; Q didn't wait for the other man to answer in kind, guessing that the infidel probably didn't know which parting words he should have uttered.

Alec silently watched the High Priest elegantly trot away.

* * *

"Such a beautiful boy" the oily voice slithered out of a distorted mouth in a disturbing hiss, resonating against an unnaturally hollowed cheek "I can see why the late High Priest wanted to keep Q all to himself: such a youth is not for everyone's eyes to feast upon"

A dark eye surrounded by molten and drooping flesh hungrily followed the willowy figure riding towards the guards carefully watching upon him, wary of any threat that may approach the High Priest. That protective attitude prompted an awful laugh, well-paired with its owner's ruined face; the man couldn't believe how blind everyone was when it came to the High Priest: it was as clear as day that the boy had a resilient mind, strengthened by decades of abuse that had attempted at breaking him and turn him into an hollowed shell the Cult could have exploited as it pleased.

"He could be useful" the voice mused, implying that weaponizing the crime inflicted upon the High Priest might have been a way to turn him towards the rebellion.

The disfigured shadow smiled thinly and disappeared, satisfied with the information collected that day.

 


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What do you think you're doing, Q?!" Bill shouted at the High Priest's head crowned with golden ribbons and orange nasturtiums "Talking some sense into them won't work!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @fellowshipofthegay is the best beta ever and I love her so much ♥

_6_

When the attack came, nobody but the King was expecting it: the merchants were loudly trying to sell their goods; children were running around or listening to their tutors' lessons; the scents of cooking lunches were just starting to slowly tickle the noses and the stomachs of people, subtly reminding everyone it was time for another meal; the soldiers leisurely strolled in the crowd, keeping the masses in order with just their reassuring presence; the priests of the Cult went around hollering prayers and questing for offerings; the poor flocked to the Temple and waited on its steps for their turn to be given some food while the High Priest distantly smiled down at them and preached about life after Judgement and Bill unobtrusively made sure nobody tried to touch him; Gareth Mallory was checking the latest entries in the accounting books in the warmth of his office before presenting them to the King and asking for his signature; Alec Trevelyan and Eve Moneypenny were amicably sparring in the training grounds, laughing merrily at each other's pained groans - it was an ordinary day, boring and comforting at the same time in its predictable routine.

James was patrolling the roof of the Palace along with his soldiers, unable to shrug off the itching of suspicion from under his skin. His keen icy-blue eyes saw far and they zeroed in on the most miniscule details seemingly out of place, his fingers ready to flash at his belt and draw his flintlock pistol and his sword in order to deal with the threat - it wasn't surprising he was the first one to spot the hooded figures stealthily slipping into the crowd, resembling tendrils of ink slowly staining a glass of clear water.

Just a fraction of a minute later, when his mouth had just opened to let a warning shout out, also his guards had spotted the rebels and one of them loudly gave the alarm, so that people knew they needed to get somewhere safe and out of the soldiers' way.

Those who were patrolling the streets had some difficulties dealing with the panicking crowd and James swore when he heard the first shot ring in the air amidst crying screams "Half a dozen of you come down with me, while those staying make the rebels feel the iron of your arrowheads" he ordered, already disappearing in the Palace in search of Alec, knowing that his friend would have already organised the soldiers to go out and fight against the rebels.

He spared only a fleeting thought towards the High Priest, hoping he had disappeared in the impenetrable safety of the Temple with as many people as possible.

* * *

 

Having grown up knowing little else but the dusty labyrinth of the Temple and the constant alarms shrieking whenever the rebels attacked, Q's mind immediately snapped to attention when the signal of warning resonated from the Palace and was quick to order people into the Temple, rising his voice in an authoritative rumbling to be heard above the panic rapidly clouding everyone's minds and making them act like terrified pigs going to a slaughterhouse "Bill, make sure they don't hurt each other in there!" Q commanded, knowing that a great amass of frightened people enclosed in a relatively small and unfamiliar room was a delicate situation "Distract them with sermons" he offered as a last advice before running down the steps of the Temple.

"What do you think you're doing, Q?!" Bill shouted at the High Priest's head crowned with golden ribbons and orange nasturtiums "Talking some sense into them won't work!"

Q ignored his friend pleading for him to go back to safety and slipped in the crowd to help the soldiers direct people towards other safe havens, innerly cringing at the horrible feeling of strangers rubbing against his robes - too close to his skin.

"Your Grace, you need to get into the Temple" a guard hurriedly spat out, his hands clearly itching with the need to throw him towards the right direction.

"I have to help: people listen to me" Q retorted, glaring up at the guard "Give me a weapon to defend myself" He imperiously outstretched his hand, clearly waiting for a pistol or a dagger to be placed in his palm.

"Your Grace..."

"I assure you, I can use a weapon without harming myself" Q interrupted the guard before he could further protest, focusing all the eerily strength in his absinth eyes on him - he was immediately handed a stiletto as the cruel noises of shooting and pained cries shattered against his eardrums, urging him to be quicker and bring more people to safety.

Q shouted at his priests to gather up children and the fallen bodies, glaring at them to get across the point he wouldn't condone any of them leaving hurt and defenceless people behind.

A sword flashed close to his face and Q hurriedly ducked out of its reach, eyes swivelling around in search of the rebel who had attempted to behead him "To your right, your Grace!"

Instinctively, Q followed the advice and turned sharply on his right with the stiletto already balanced between his fingers and pointed in the direction towards he which expected to find his opponent's throat, mentally calculating the strength with which he should have thrown the dagger to cut through layers of flesh and muscle. An arrow flying from behind him embedded itself in the hooded figure that had been threatening him "Thanks" Q threw over his shoulder at the dark skinned woman holding a bow in her delicate hands.

"For the Eternal's sake, what are you doing outside of the Temple your Grace?" the woman swore, frowning as darkly as an approaching tempest and trying to focus on the High Priest and the rebels at the same time.

Q muttered a quick prayer to plead the Eternal to ignore the improper use that had just been made of Its sacred name "I'm trying to help, instead of cowering in a corner" he snapped before throwing his stiletto at the rebel that had been trying to approach the woman from behind "You're welcome Ms..?"

"Moneypenny. I believe you refused my medical help at some point" she grinned while handing the High Priest a flintlock pistol "Are you as good at firing this as you are at throwing knives, your Grace?"

* * *

 

Alec gripped James to hold him still for the necessary length of a minute to ascertain his brother had armed himself properly and donned some kind of protection: when determined on destroying a threat, James could be incredibly single-minded and stupidly risk his life "Try to avoid disappearing from my sight"

"Please, James" Mallory pleaded along Alec while still checking whether his pistol was ready to fire "You're the bloody King: they want you dead - don't offer yourself on a silver tray"

James huffed and shrugged Alec's hands away, craving to get out of the Palace and help his people in the time of need "They won't get to me" he growled, as threatening as a wild wolf scenting blood.

The acrid smell of smoke cut off any retort Alec and Mallory may have had and hurriedly ushered the King and his soldiers outside, where they were welcomed by yellowish flames licking at the market stands and the people who hadn't been quick enough to get out of the fire range.

"Those bastards!" Alec spat out, his eyes searching for the hooded figures that were almost impossible to spot amidst the soot and smoke plummeting in the air, settling placidly like fog and dulling the edges of reality.

Orders for water to be gathered to put off the fire were issued while they helped people to safety and tried to save the unfortunate souls burning alive, their bloodcurdling screams mixing with the spitting hissing of the fire devouring everything.

"Your Highness!" James turned on his heels to regard Eve Moneypenny, concernedly glancing at the streak of blood splashed against her right temple and dripping into her eye "The High Priest is somewhere in there!" She gesticulated towards the middle of the market, where there was more for the blaze to consume in its unforgiving blistering jaws.

"What?!" James squinted to better see whether amidst the flames he could spot a willowy silhouette clad in white.

"He wanted to help and he could fire a gun: I made him promise he would stray from me but..." Eve let the sentence die on her tongue, looking at her sovereign with chocolaty eyes filled with helplessness.

"Help the others to put out the fire" James ordered, comfortingly clapping her on a shoulder "I'll try to retrieve the High Priest" Before she could protest, James sprinted towards the direction Eve had indicated him, carefully dodging the flaming ruins tumbling to the burnt ground. The air he inhaled scorched his nostrils and throat, simmering in his lungs and prompting a rather nasty bout of coughing; James wondered about how the seemingly physically frail High Priest could have survived that raging inferno.

A distant pained wail made James' ears perk up on attention but he didn't recognise the timbre as that of Q's. He kept searching amidst the ruins, calling the other's name in the vain hope Q would be conscious to answer him.

He was losing hope, fingers scorched by scalding embers and breathing laboured, when he spotted a spoiled flower amidst the soot - one of the nasturtiums he had noticed nestled amidst Q's unruly black curls; a few steps further, James saw the High Priest sprawled on the ground, his pristine robe spotted with greyish ashes and blood and a child cradled in his arms "Q"

Q looked upwards, absentmindedly hugging the little boy closer to his heaving chest in an instinctive protective stance, despite the itching another's touch he couldn't get rid of "Your Highness" An exhaustedly relieved smile blossomed on his mouth smudged with rouge, looking thinner than usual.

James bent down to help the both of them up, aiming at putting his hands under Q's armpits; however, the younger man squirmed away from him and put the child in his arms in order to slowly get on his feet on his own "Any burns? Broken bones?" he inquired while checking the child who fitfully slept behind the strip of cloth Q had tied around his small face, preventing him from inhaling too much smoke and ashes - James wondered why the High Priest hadn't done the same to himself to preserve his own health and scowled darkly.

Q shook his head "I'm fine" he coughed, a hand immediately flying to cover his mouth "Just get me out of here"

"Come on" James reached with a hand towards Q, hoping he would take the offered help. The High Priest dismissed it with an impertinent smile and stepped next to the King, walking at his side and surprisingly matching James' broad and hurried strides while shushing the little boy whenever he threatened starting to cry, pacifying his fussing with the calm and tender intonation of his voice roughened by smoke inhalation.

As soon as they escaped the blaze, fresh oxygen made Q and the child cough painfully while they were surrounded by physicians trying to ascertain whether they were in good health or not; Eve took in her arms the child to visit him while Alec thoughtfully draped his cloak over the High Priest's shoulders, hiding from the bystanders hid tattered clothes "You're so irresponsible - both of you" he scolded, glaring at James "You promised me you wouldn't do anything stupid"

"Well, someone had to save his Grace!" the King spat out "What were you doing outside of the Temple?"

Q watched the two men argue with wide eyes, paralysed by a fear deep-rooted in his twisted childhood, and coughed for a long minute before answering the King's irate inquiry "I was needed" He shrugged "Besides, I can defend myself" he added, nodding at Eve as if to ask for her confirmation.

Mallory politely cleared his throat, attracting everyone's attention "There's no use in fighting now, the most important thing is that you're both safe" he pointed out "Please, your Grace, be a guest in the Palace until the fire has been put out and you have restored yourself"

"A messenger will be sent to the Temple to reassure everyone of your safety" James added, before Q could voice the worry clearly etched on his tired features.

The High Priest cocked his head in acceptance, an orange petal falling from his untidy hair "Very well"

* * *

Q refused the help of the servants that had been sent to him to help with bathing and changing clothes, reassuring them he always preferred conducting his ablutions alone. They left only after he allowed them to draw his bath - an obscene concoction of hot water, lavender oil and refreshing salts - and arrange the comfortable and warm robe the King had found for him.

Q immersed himself and vigorously scrubbed at his skin, removing soot and chalk; the mere idea of standing in front of everyone without the flimsy armour of his makeup on made him feel naked and exposed, but Q understood that stubbornly staying in his rooms would have been terribly impolite and disrespectful - though, his reflection looked so frail with the hair plastered around his unadorned face and dripping on the admiral-blue robe, a couple of sizes bigger on his sharp edged body.

A knock resonated just as he had started towelling his curls dry "A minute, please! " he shouted, scowling at the way his hair was fluffed up around his head. Deeming it a lost cause, he strode to the door and opened it "Your Highness" he greeted, feeling a blush blossom on his cheekbones as he took in the properly attired King.

The sight of the dishevelled High Priest, usually so prim and proper, made James smirk delightedly "Q, that colour suits you" he complimented; with his uncanny resemblance to Vesper, James had known Q would have looked stunning with such a deep and rich colour to contrast the paleness of his complexion and set off the green in his irises - plus, it highlighted the blush staining those cheeks.

"I find it makes me look like a spectre, but thank you" Q avoided looking in the King's icy-blue irises and kept his gaze focused on the arabesques painted on the wall while crossing his arms in front of his chest, fingers subtly rubbing his muscles aching from the strain of wielding weapons after a long time "Please, come in" he invited after an embarrassingly long silence, tucking himself to the side so that the King could enter without accidentally brushing against him.

James sat on the only stuffed chair in the room and grabbed the sad remains of the flowercrown that had been abandoned on the small table "My mother braided nasturtiums in her hair whenever my father came back from war"

Q closed the door and took a seat on the edge of his bed, facing the King "They surely have followed the Path to the Eternal" he offered as consolation.

James shrugged, not caring much about the religious words "It was a long time ago" Which didn't mean he still didn't miss them, but the grief had lost its cutting edge and he could remember his parents fondly "I hope you've not discovered any injuries"

"Just a couple of bruises, nothing that won't fade" Q reassured him "How's Basil?"

"Oh, the child? He's quite fine and attached himself to Alec's hip" James grinned, remembering how the little boy had immediately taken to his friend and started pestering him about weapons and wars and horses, barely shutting up even while gulping down the milk Eve had forced on him "I came here to talk about him, to be honest"

"He's an orphan, I imagine" Q sighed; he had found Basil resigned to his fate, as if he had known nobody would have come to look for him - an attitude only someone without family would have "I'll try to search for a family willing to take him in, or I'll be forced to place him in an orphanage" As those words left his mouth, a bitter frown distorted his features.

"Couldn't you raise him in the Temple?" James inquired, recalling that the High Priest himself had grown up in the Temple; it wasn't an ideal environment where to spend one's childhood, but it surely was better than an orphanage.

A shiver shook Q's spine and his mind rebelled at the idea of another child imprisoned in the Temple "Believe me, your Highness, I would have preferred being abandoned in an orphanage rather than in the Temple" he admitted.

James, who had presumed Q to be an orphan, innerly cringed at his faux pas and vividly imagined the scolding Mallory would have whipped out "I'm sorry"

"I don't even remember my parents" Q reassured, squashing the loneliness and hate festering deep in his soul.

"The boy could stay here, I suppose" James said after a few minutes spent in morose silence "It's not as if I lack the means to support him"

Q smiled sweetly "He grew on you" he teased lightly.

"Just like you did, Q"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nasturtiums mean conquest, victory in battle.   
> The name Basil has a Greek origin and means king.
> 
> If you want to chat I'm also sunaddicted both on tumblr and LJ: I love talking to people so, feel free to come and say hi!


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James thought he had gone mad as his eyes spotted a raven-haired figure haunt the gardens in the golden light of dawn, the robe a vivid splotch of blood marring the refreshing beauty of nature - blood that he had tasted as he had tried to breathe life into lilac lips slicked by glacial water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me so long to update but on Monday I had my last exam of the semester and I needed to focus on my studies!  
> This chapter is not beta'd because my email is acting up and I didn't manage to send it to my lovely wife @fellowshipofthegay -.- I apologise for any mistakes and please feel free to point them out to me ♥

_7_

Q watched how sunlight played on the ceiling, curling around the middle of his own body underneath the unfamiliar and overwhelmingly soft sheets; he started mentally praying to the Eternal in a way reminiscent of his childhood, during which Its vessel had mercilessly driven into him and the High Priest's breath had puffed against his sharp collarbone, unbearably hot in contrast with his cold and clammy skin.

A shiver thrummed through Q's body as he heard the High Priest's moaned "My precious boy" in his ear and he felt invisible hands grip his hips to hitch his spindly legs over large shoulders, so that the High Priest could drive deeper into him and deliver his rightful punishment - a ghostly and dull ache burned his insides, the memory of endless hours of abuse simmering through his veins.

Q closed his eyes and shook his head, chasing away the unwanted images and sensations. He climbed out of bed with shaking thighs, his muscles still reeling from the force of the flashback that had possessed him - just because the way sunlight splattered on the ceiling of the guest room the King had offered him was familiar to the way sun would shine on the ceiling of his abuser bedroom.

He escaped the stifling atmosphere after quickly establishing that the crimson red nightrobe he had slept in wasn't too thin or too creased by his nightmares, not even stopping to put some slippers on. Q strode through corridors he didn't know with mounting anxiety, eyes frantically searching for a door that would open on the beautiful gardens of the Palace and lungs still burning from smoke inhalation: he needed the fresh air and the scent of humid earth to clear his mind of the feeling of an older and heavier body blanketing his own - he needed reality to come and displace the festering shadows of his nightmares.

"Can I help, your Grace?"

Q spun on his heels to face the concerned guard who had offered him assistance, both looking mildly worried and alert "I.." Q swallowed drily and cleared his aching throat while he nervously fingered the robe draped over his body, resolutely avoiding looking down at his naked feet to not attract attention on them "I was looking for a way to get to the gardens" he admitted.

The guard didn't comment on his garments, hardly appropriate for an early stroll in the gardens "Would you like me to show you the way, your Grace?"

"If you can be spared from your duties for a couple of minutes, I would appreciate your help" Q attempted a smile and fell into step with the young guard when he nodded and started to presumably walk towards the nearest exit - towards freedom.

* * *

James thought he had gone mad as his eyes spotted a raven-haired figure haunt the gardens in the golden light of dawn, the robe a vivid splotch of blood marring the refreshing beauty of nature - blood that he had tasted as he had tried to breathe life into lilac lips slicked by glacial water.

Kneeling amidst bushes of heliotrope, Q looked as if he was drowning in their blue petals - just like Vesper had drowned in startlingly blue waters, her dress blooming like a dark crimson rose underneath the frigid surface of the lake, her green irises wide-open staring at him as life escaped her in bubbles of air.

He walked towards him almost absentmindedly, driven by an unknown force that compelled him to make sure no reanimated corpse was wandering in his gardens "Why aren't you wearing a cape?" he inquired with an arched eyebrow "Or shoes" he added as he noticed Q's pale and elegant feet looking whiter against the fresh green of grass.

Q shrunk away from the unexpected question and whipped his head upwards, messy curls falling into his eyes, in order to look at the King looming over him, a great shadow made of rough edges and powerful lines "Your Highness" he uselessly whispered, blinking at the larger man as if still trying to make sense of his appearance.

James huffed and deftly got rid of his cloak, bending down to drape it over Q's frail shoulders, making sure not to touch him; he had always been good at reading people, understanding them thanks to all the things they said with their bodies instead of with their voices, and it hadn't been difficult to deduce that Q abhorred any kind of touching - it was a wish James respected and understood "You'll catch your death" he reproached without offering his hand to help him up, despite habit screaming at him to do so.

"Thank you" Q burrowed deeper in the oversized cloak, the strong scent of soap and sweet wine pleasantly dulling his senses "I should have asked for your permission before wandering in the gardens" he quietly apologised, getting up from the ground and subtly brushing grass stains from the robe.

James waved his words away and admired the shade of golden-green the younger man's irises turned to when bathed by the tender light of a breaking dawn "You can go wherever you like" he reassured with a smile "Would you mind terribly if I joined you for your stroll?"

Despite having had the need of solitude after his nightmare, Q found himself invitingly smiling at the King "Not at all; after all, I know how boring it is to be a lonely insomniac"

"Truer words have never been spoken, Q" James grinned when a blush exploded on Q's cheeks after hearing his own name leave someone's lips "So, was it insomnia or a bad dream?"

"Bad dream" Q replied shrugging, downplaying the terror that had flooded him so that the King wouldn't ask for further explanations; he was used to being surrounded by people who were used to his almost nonexistent sleeping schedule and who knew not to ask about the nightmares that made him scream in the dark "What about you?"

"Basil couldn't sleep and wanted to see you but you needed your rest so, I let him climb in my bed" James grimaced, remembering the heart-wrenching sniffles, coughs and accidental kicks the child had delivered in his fitful sleep; for being such a small and fragile thing, malnourished and clearly not at the top of his health, Basil had delivered with quite some strength that had made James' silently mourn his shins and kneecaps "Let's say I'm not used to dealing with children"

Q frowned "You should have come to wake me up" He didn't want Basil to think he had been once again abandoned: he knew all too well how it felt like.

"You inhaled a lot of smoke yesterday: your body needed the rest - I'm surprised you're still not out of breath" James observed.

Q grimaced, fingers reflexively skittering over his throat as he remembered what being forced breathless had felt like and shivered "I'm a resilient creature" he chose to say in the end, hoping it would sound vague enough to the King and halt his questioning.

James hummed and let silence pour between them, build a thin web connecting them in the peace of the early morning. The ethereal man walking by his side with the same innate grace and stealth one would appoint to a cat, was so deeply engrossed in the blooms in his path that it seemed as if James was alone - and yet, he could somewhat perceive a gently simmering warmth coming in waves from the High Priest "You can take any flower you like"

Q flashed the King a smile, digits tenderly ruffling the clusters of baby's breath "Thank you"

Seeing that the High Priest didn't seem keen on taking up his offer, James stepped closer while clearing his throat, making sure the other man wouldn't be startled by his approach "May I?" he asked, nodding towards the clouds of tiny white flowers "Just the hair" he added quickly, as soon as he spotted something akin to panic shadow the golden flecks in those green irises.

Q regarded the King quietly, wary of the brute strength those broad hands could wield; he was well-aware that it didn't mean anything - with his own graceful fingers he had done some awful things - and the King had never seemed eager to impose himself and dominate him "Be careful please" Q smiled nervously but sincerely, conceiving the idea that he hadn't felt obliged by the King's request to grant his permission.

"I don't know how you can stand the sweetness of fresh wilting flowers constantly in your nostrils" James observed, his arm sneaking upwards to tug at the scentless white camellias dangling in the wind, drooping earthward because of the heaviness of their thick and velvety petals "Don't you get an headache?"

Q shrugged "Not particularly: my nose has been desensitised by incense" He wrinkled said appendage while keeping track of the other's movements; he greatly appreciated the deliberate slowness with which the King was orchestrating his limbs and rewarded him with tilting his head slightly upwards, making himself vulnerable to his ministrations "Besides, scentless flowers are kinda fake?"

"So, you don't like camellias" James grinned, haltingly reaching for the High Priest's rebellious curls to tame them a bit, carding through the silky and thick waves with gentle and questing fingers before putting the large flower behind the other's ear; it took what it seemed to be an age since James stopped moving everytime he noticed a particularly jerky twitch or the swallowing of Q's breath "There" James whispered, taking a step back to admire the way the camellia caressed that soft temple and let Q have some space.

The young man closed his eyes to hide the raising tide of overwhelming emotions wash in his irises, focusing on getting his rapid breathing under control again; every nerve ending had been shattered by the tentative feeling of someone touching him, his skin itching unpleasantly with a strange mix of both wanting and recoiling for more "Thank you, for everything"

"You're welcome, Q"

* * *

"Don't leave me"

With surprise blooming in his eyes, Q looked down at Basil who was sniffling rather loudly and had tears slowly sliding down his cheeks hollowed out by hunger "Dear, don't you want to stay here with Alec?" He crouched down, smoothing the gaudy golden robe the King had given him to replace the crimson nightgown he had gallivated around in, and tenderly looked into those big brown eyes, trying to mutely reassure him that they wouldn't kick him out in the streets again "I was told you two get along pretty well"

"Yes and, I can assure you, I adore your presence as well" James smiled down at the boy, who seemingly had eyes only for his saviour.

Basil stepped closer and sobbed when Q lurched back, jostling the camellia warming against his skin, graceful hands wrapped around his biceps as if to hold himself together "I don't have fleas!" he cried pitifully, making James silently cringe.

Q cocked his head to the side, surprised by the words leaving the child's mouth "Oh, baby" he sighed as soon as he understood Basil had been upset he had avoided his attempted hug "It has nothing to do with you" He awkwardly gestured towards his own body "I'm the sick one"

Those words clearly didn't have the reassuring lilt Q was aiming at and managed only to make Basil cry harder and louder "You can't die!"

Q looked up at the King with pleading eyes, mutely asking for help to deal with the situation, and smiled thinly in relief as the sovereign lowered himself to the floor and grabbed the child, holding him close to his chest "He's not going to die, Basil, but touching hurts him" he explained gently.

"But he held me yesterday" Basil glanced at Q hopefully before burying his head in James' chest.

"Imagine your skin being completely bruised" James suggested "It's painful when someone touches your bruises, isn't it?"

Basil sniffled and nodded, casting another glance towards Q as if to take in suddenly bloomed bruises "It hurts"

"Yes, but it's not unbearable. If it meant saving someone else's life wouldn't you endure the pain?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't want anyone to touch them again" Basil wriggled in James' lap and faced the High Priest "Do you feel like that?"

"Unfortunately" Q's answer was dry and to the point. He had known the King was aware of his phobia of touching, but hearing him so openly aknowledge it was shocking and unpleasant: it made him feel a freak, a joke of nature "Well, I'd better take my leave" Q hastily raised to his feet.

"You're sure you don't want me to order a carriage?" The King stood up, still cradling Basil in his arms.

"No, I prefer walking" Q dismissed the offer itching to get away from those eyes that knew him far too well.

"But you'll come back to say hi, right?"

"Don't worry, Basil, I'm always in the Temple"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heliotrope stands for devotion, Baby's breath is the symbol of innocence and purity of heart (that's why it is so often used as filler for wedding bouquets) and white Camellias mean adoration, perfection and loveliness.


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James nodded his agreement at Q as jade-green irises briefly glanced at him, gauging his reaction to his speech; how could have James reacted with anything but approval, he didn’t know: the High Priest had substantially given him an army of spies to aid him in the crusade against the Rebels – and just with few well-placed words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not beta'd because I was too impatient to wait and wanted to immediately post it lol  
> The first part of the chapter is a bit graphic and deals with Q's abuse so, skip it if it's too much for you.

_8_

Q strode into the Temple in a way that shrieked he wanted to be left alone, garish golden robes trailing behind him and white petals falling down, nestling in the luxurious folds of cloth slipping down from his left shoulder, clearly a couple of sizes too large for his waifish frame “I’ll be out of my rooms in time for mass” he spat out, not bothering to glance back at the priests staring at him wide-eyed, shocked by such an uncharacteristic display of temper on the usually quiet and good-natured High Priest.

  
He burrowed deeper into the maze of corridors hidden at the core of the Temple, a dark mess of entwining corridors that brought nowhere; whereas an outsider would have slowly started feeling disoriented and choked by the endless twists and turns and doors opening on abandoned chapels, Q felt both his focus sharpen and his muscle memory kick in – his body was readying itself for an ambush in the shadows.  
His pace quickened silently on the fraying rugs

  
[“Stop running, my sweet boy” the High Priest orders in an amused voice, calmly following in the wake of his scared protégé and keeping his eyes fixed on the beautifully pale expanse of milky skin; if he thinks about it long enough, he can easily recall its clean and apricot-flavoured taste that wondrously set his taste buds alight “It’s unbecoming of the future High Priest” he reminds to that head of bobbing curls, shining like obsidian in the thick and oily darkness leading to the core of the Temple, where his boy foolishly hoped to find safety to embrace him – shelter in the chambers of the man he was fleeing from]

and tried to ignore the way his nape itched uncomfortably, shaking fastidiously away the long-ingrained need to look behind his back and assess whether he was being followed or not: he knew the monster had died and finally freed him from his perversion, left him alone and damaged to stitch what remained of his life together.

  
With his mind still reeling, Q pushed open the door to his chambers

  
[The High Priest inspects the seemingly deserted rooms, a devious and delighted smile playing on his lips as he locked up the only way out and blood started to sing in his veins, a delirious excitement flooding his brain at the prospect of a chase “I know you’re under the bed” he sing-songed, leisurely making his way towards his sumptuous bed “Do come out, little love” He let his robes fall to the carpeted floor for Q to see from his hiding spot – he could almost feel the frightened quickening of his pulse under his tongue]

  
and freed himself of the fabric enveloping him like the embrace of a persistent lover, letting out a shuddering breath and tugging the camellia out of his curls – the unspoken promise held in its petals out of place in the darkness that was brewing between those four walls.

  
Q laid completely bare on the pristine bed, fists curling into the soft quilt and heels digging in the mattress as if fighting against invisible restraints

  
[“Stop glaring at the ceiling like that” the High Priest sighs, carding a thick hand through Q’s baby-fine curls before he tugs at them to turn the boy’s head around and look into those otherworldly expressive eyes: they already are veiled by unshed tears and a maelstrom of sadness, fear and defiance relentlessly swirls in their depths “Your body needs to be purged of Evil before the Eternal can find rest in your vessel” he preaches, the thumb of a caressing hand catching into the softness of Q’s bottom lip, fluttering with the short gasps he’s drawing in his lungs and slick with saliva: he’s such a beautiful boy]

  
and lowered his eyelids on the reassuring reality of his empty room to admire the scaring picturespainted on the canvas of his mind: a bloodcurdling scream fuelled by all the oxygen in his lungs tore its way out of his vocal chords – it echoed the desperate pleading of a child’s ghost haunting those chambers

  
[“Hush, my dear” the High Priest coos, tenderly bending down to kiss the fat tears away from Q’s sharp cheekbones that lend his fair face a striking resemblance to the exotic looks of a temptress waiting in the filthy darkness of an alley a customer to lure in her skirts; his mouth trails lower, rubbing against the softness of that pale skin on its way to the boy’s wet and open mouth: thrusting his tongue in and plundering the taste of grapes and oranges from his teeth is easy and exalting – and it makes Q deliciously squirm under him as he vainly tries to escape his attentions.  
When the struggling becomes more pronounced, the High Priest shifts his focus on the elegant and vulnerable arch of Q’s neck where his skin tastes saltier with fear and it feels hotter with the conspicuous amounts of blood pushing against the surface, as if trying to escape his abused body “Breathe” he orders, worming his hand under the tunic barely hiding his lithe body and splaying his fingers over his frantically expanding ribcage and thrumming heart “You won’t like your punishment, if you pass out”  
“Please” Q sobs and it makes him flush redder and his eyes shinier – it makes him even more appealing than a handful of moments ago “Please, it hurts”  
The High Priest pushes harder against the trembling chest under his digits, a silent reminder to Q to breathe regularly, and kisses his creased and sweaty brow after nudging the curls out of the way “It wouldn’t hurt, if you accepted the Eternal’s punishment” he points out with a smile: he knows Q is talking about his new-found fear of touching, the way even a distracted caress from a priest passing by makes him flinch and scream and how he has scratched the back of his hands raw in an attempt at soothing the constant imaginary itching needling at him.  
“I don’t want to be the Eternal’s vessel” Q trashes against the High Priest’s hold and, in his panic, he doesn’t notice how his movements make his robe finally come undone and reveal his body to the hungry gaze ravaging him.  
“Foolish boy” The High Priest’s fingers caress downwards, amidst the boy’s shaking thighs: Q’s not aroused – he can’t be: he’s too young for that – but he can’t help fondling him “You’ve been chosen” he lies so easily, knowing that nobody – not even his young victim – believes in his words; he squeezes Q’s tender and fleshy buttocks enough to bruise and the boy’s legs ungracefully fall open to reveal his puckered opening “You don’t have a say in your life”]

  
– surrendering to his demons felt like coming home, far away from the King’s knowing eyes. 

* * *

  
“I know you don’t care much for the Cult, but you and the High Priest must present a united front against this threat” Mallory stopped his pacing right in front of the King, frowning at the sight of the usually stern man holding an evidently distressed child in his arms and making absentminded cooing noises at him “You need to go to mass this evening”

  
James glanced up at his advisor “I was already planning on doing so” he admitted unashamedly, as if it had never taken Mallory days of pleading to get him to show his face at carefully scheduled ceremonies taking place in the Temple; it was a novelty both welcome and suspicious, one that made Mallory wary about his King’s intentions towards the young High Priest.

  
Alec snorted at the bewilderment written all over the advisor’s usually politely schooled features “You almost did Gareth in, James!”

  
Mallory turned to glare at the captain of the guards “You’re not too old to be put on my knee, Alec” he threatened him before focusing back on the King to smile his approval, even if he was suspicious of the motives that had made James so pliant at the idea of enduring a mass: he never was one to look into a gifted horse mouth “Well then, I’ll leave you two to prepare” He bowed primly and walked out of the room, smirking as Alec started violently protesting at his sudden inclusion in the little party going to the Temple that evening.

  
Basil amusedly watched the big blond man swear and rearranged himself in a more comfortable position in James’ lap; he huffed when he slid to the floor because of the non-existent friction between the silky robe James had forced on him and the King’s garments made of smooth fabrics “I hate this thing” he mumbled, picking himself up from the rug with blood staining his cheeks in embarrassment “You wear stupid clothes”

  
“That’s sadly true, James” Alec concurred, admiring the spine the boy was showing while standing up to the King of the Empire “You always had a taste for ridiculous outfits, just because you want to parade your body around like a bloody peacock”

  
James ignored their complainings and reached for Basil to tug his clothes in order with expert fingers; the child endured the fussing remarkably well, just heaving a sigh or two and making faces at James’ bent head, believing the man couldn’t see him “Are we going to see Q, then?” he asked, hopeful eyes seeming impossibly large on his drawn face “I miss him”

  
“You’ve seen him just this morning” Alec reminded Basil.

  
“Still” Basil shrugged and let himself be drawn to sit in James’ lap again, his arms looped loosely around his waist to keep him from falling on the floor “So, are we going?”

  
James smiled “Yes and you’ll have to wear even more ridiculous clothes”

* * *

  
“He looks sick” Basil muttered, voice dripping with worry as he glanced to and fro from Q tiredly leaning against the altar as he chanted the mass with voice roughened by smoke and James sitting rigidly in his uncomfortable seat, icy-blue eyes focused on the trembling of the High Priest’s fingers.

  
Q’s simple white robes swathing his waifish frame seemed almost excessively austere after the bright-coloured and luxurious garments he had worn in the Palace, while his heavily crowned head was strikingly garish in comparison to the single camellia that had adorned his curls when he had departed from the Palace: strands of dodder dotted with small white flowers had been braided into a circlet together with buttery yellow dragon’s wort flowers and shockingly pink blossoms of ice plant, a couple of orange lilies had been entwined in Q’s luscious curls and made his pale skin look somewhat pasty instead of polished ivory.

  
James grabbed one of Basil’s hands to stop him from restlessly shifting on his seat “Be quiet” he whispered “You’ll just make it more difficult for him, if you don’t stay quiet” he tried to appeal to Basil’s attachment to Q and focused again on the mass.

  
The High Priest sighed heavily, a languid sound fluttering against his painted lips that to James’ eyes looked so vulgar after having had the pleasure of seeing Q without an ounce of makeup on to mask the natural delicate beauty of his features “The people who set fire to the marketplace yesterday, they took the labours of your hard work. They took your adored friends. They took your children. They took your families” Q paused to hide some dry coughing behind the back of his hand and the silence was filled by muffled sobbing and crying “They took from the Eternal Its glorious design” The last syllables were drowned by a sonata of enraged and pained shouts that obliged Q to wait for the angry wave to calm down before picking his speech up again “Your anger is just” His voice came out as that of a general slowly coaxing his soldiers to a war they didn’t think necessary: a seductive and low baritone filled with comprehension and compassion, soul-wracking in its brutal honesty and frailty “The only way to defeat this calamity is to stay united and not to squabble over mundanities; you all are called to a greater task: your eyes are the Eternal’s and it’s your duty to come to me and to the King’s men to refer any suspicious detail you might have seen”

  
James nodded his agreement at Q as jade-green irises briefly glanced at him, gauging his reaction to his speech; how could have James reacted with anything but approval, he didn’t know: the High Priest had substantially given him an army of spies to aid him in the crusade against the Rebels – and just with few well-placed words. He patiently waited for Q to bring the mass to its closure and for the Temple to empty of the acolytes.

  
“Your Highness” Q greeted, slowly walking towards them; a throng of fettering priests and guards followed him, as close as possible without choking him with their presence “Hello, Basil”

  
Basil squirreled out from under James’ arm and hurried next to Q “You’re ill”

  
“No, dear” Q crouched down and smiled tiredly at the child “You look like a Prince dressed like this”

  
“James dresses like an idiot”

  
A painful sounding laugh escaped Q’s throat “You look way nicer than the King” he assured him “Now, go into the carriage to wait for the King: I need to have a few private words with him”

  
“But…”

  
“Do as the High Priest says Basil” James intervened “What’s happening to you? You didn’t seem this sick this morning”

  
Q smiled bitterly and offered the King a trembling hand with the palm facing upwards and fingers lax “Do you really want to know, your Highness?”

  
“Let me help you, Q”

  
“Take my hand, James, and I’ll show you”

  
As soon as their hands were clasped together, Q fell to the ground and filled the Temple with his horribly shrieking screams – leaving James unable to do anything but watch as a mere handshake had reduced the strong-willed High Priest to that pitiful and wailing creature; he was ready to swear that his hand was on fire when the words “Please, it hurts” slipped out in a heart-wrenching sob.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dodder stands for meannes; Dragon’s wort symbolises horror; Ice plant means "Your looks freeze me"; orange Lilies stand for hatred.


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I love you, too" Q rasped and sat up, disliking the apparent inferiority that laying flat on the bed suggested. When the covers pooled at his waist, he shivered and quickly tugged them over his shoulders "So, what happened after I passed out?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd by the wife @fellowshipofthegay because my mailbox hates me and won't send the fucking message *quietly rages*
> 
> A quick thank you to Emmikus for their constant support and excitement for this story ♥ I think you'll quite enjoy this chapter

_9_

"The boy is feverish with shock and exhaustion right now" the physician revealed, eyes darting in all directions to avoid looking at the half-liquefied face in front of him "If you're planning a move on him, now it would be the right moment: he's quite incapable of fighting back, probably he won't even wake up while your men extract him from the Temple"

The disfigured man hummed and propped his chin on the back of an elegant and tanned hand, a finger adorned with a scar where a ring used to sit lazily stroking circles on his full lower lip "And how do you suggest my men infiltrate the Temple to abduct the High Priest?" he inquired with a sickly sweet voice that made the physician visibly flinch in his seat; not even the most hardened and seasoned soldiers could idly sit when such a tone filled the man's half-ruined mouth.

"I could lie about the boy's health conditions, diagnose something quite dire that would need the sterile and safe treatment that can only be offered in my especially designed rooms. And your men could act as my assistants and deal with the few guards permitted to accompany the High Priest"

"It's a sound plan" Genuine surprise replaced the amusement "But I don't wish to apprehend the High Priest, yet" The times still needed ripening: people still had too much faith in their spiritual and political leaders and weren't ready to see the faults in their characters - the High Priest and the King had to start showing unacceptable flaws before the rebellion could strike a killing blow "Your contribute to the cause will be rewarded" The man offered in dismissal, throwing at the physician a satchel clinking with heavy coins: it wouldn't do to loose such a convenient source of information just because he had to part with a little gold. 

* * *

Q opened his eyes to a heavily scowling Bill "Good morning" he croaked, squinting his eyes a bit to protect them from the shimmering sunlight.

Bill's frown deepened considerably "You're an idiot" he stated as he peered closely at Q's face, trying to understand whether the paleness of his skin was due to Q's life as a recluse in the Temple or to the slight fever that had plagued him during the night after his stupid stunt with the King at the end of mass "Clearly you inhaled too much smoke"

"I love you, too" Q rasped and sat up, disliking the apparent inferiority that laying flat on the bed suggested. When the covers pooled at his waist, he shivered and quickly tugged them over his shoulders "So, what happened after I passed out?"

Bill shook his head, but complied to Q's request and retold the previous evening events while servants bustled in and fixed them breakfast, loading the trays with fresh fruit and fragrant tea "The King was escorted out of the Temple; he didn't seem particularly surprised by your reaction, as if he had been expecting it, and immediately offered to send his personal physician - we declined, of course: your medical entourage is quite expert in handling you"

"Or not handling" Q joked, sipping the scalding hot tea with relish: its warmth and the honey that had been spooned in the drink were balms for his dry and sore throat "Go on"

"There's nothing much left to say: you came down with a slight fever and peacefully slept for the whole night" Bill reached behind himself to grab the bouquet that had been arranged in a vase on the table "And the King sent you these just after dawn"

The spiderwort flowers almost hurt the eyes watching them with the startling vibrancy of their colour, a solid bluish-violet that soared straight to the brain and impressed itself there as if on a canvas "I'll make sure to return the courtesy"

"Why did you offer him your hand?" Bill placed the vase where Q could see it and nudged a slice of peach closer to him, silently prompting him to eat.

Q shrugged and occupied his mouth with chewing on the soft and saccharine juicy fruit "The King wanted to help me and I needed to show I trust him, if we want him as an ally against the Rebels" he reasoned; he kept to himself the fact he had hoped he wouldn't feel as if he was burning alive when the King laced their hands together, since the gentle caresses on his curls hadn't hurt him - only the remembrance of other fingers sorting through his hair had made him wary and trembling.

"Gaining an ally in the King isn't worth your health"

Q smiled sadly at him "Everything is worth peace, my dear friend: we're just sacrificable chess pieces for the Eternal - Its mind only contemplates the endgame"

Bill had long known Q's faith in the Eternal was destructive, but it still saddened him hearing such resigned words from the young man; once again, he cursed the former High Priest who had taken a terrified abandoned child in need of guidance and love and transformed him into an anxious man who believed his body to be a mere vessel for the Eternal "We weren't created out of caprice" he pointed out, standing up to take his leave "We weren't created to be lifeless puppets"

Not a word came from Q as Bill closed the door behind his back.

The priest quickly walked away from Q's chambers, ready to direct the organisation of the Temple in the High Priest's stead. He occupied his mind with the possibility of prohibiting Q to celebrate mass that evening and thought about a suitable replacement, grimacing at the idea of preaching to a crowd of devoted acolytes already used to Q's beautifully crafted and hypnotising speeches: he was dry and direct, not fond of rhetorical embellishments and frilly wording that would only tie his tongue and make him forget what was he trying to communicate.

"Revered Tanner"

Bill focused his attention on the priest calling his name and immediately sharpened his gaze as he noticed the man's evident discomfort "What's wrong?"

"A child was found trying to sneak in past the Great Hall of the Temple"

A child "Is the boy's name Basil?" Bill asked and started to walk towards the Great Hall, confiding in the other priest to follow him.

"Yes, actually"

Wonderful. Bill quickened his pace and sighed heavily when he spotted the orphan Q had saved from the fire moodily sitting on the steps leading to the dais from which the altar dominated the room "Should I inform the King you escaped your rooms before he sends out a search party or does he know you're here?"

Basil glared up at the priest "I didn't escape: I'm not a prisoner!"

"Answer the question" Bill retorted, waving the other priests away with a careless gesture of a hand "And I'll let you see the High Priest, if you promise not to tire him"

Basil pondered the offer, distrust playing openly on his still somewhat androgynous features; Bill shuddered at the idea that Q had started screaming under a caressing hand when he had been younger than the orphan he had saved "I told Ms Eve but I'm pretty sure she didn't hear me"

Bill offered the boy a hand "Come on, I'll accompany you to Q's rooms"

"Could you not tell James I'm out without supervision?" Basil attempted asking, figuring that it wouldn't hurt much: he already was in trouble; James and Alec had lectured him quite thoroughly about sneaking out of the Palace and implied he would be punished if he didn't comply with the rules they had set.

"No" Bill answered drily "As soon as you're with Q I'll send a messenger to the Palace"

"Could you include a message from me too?"

"I hope you want to send your apologies to His Highness" Bill agreed, admiring the cheek of the boy: no wonder the King liked him to the point of taking him in and raising him.

Basil candidly grinned "Not quite. Bend down so I can whisper in your ear"

* * *

Alec was laughing so hard that tears had started to streak his cheeks, fuelling James' irritation towards the crumpled piece of paper in his fist "Did he really wrote 'Just checking on your flowers'?"

James slowly exhaled "He wasn't supposed to know I have sent him flowers"

"He wasn't supposed to go out without permission and a guard to handle him either" Alec added, still snickering "Will you really punish him? I mean, it's a bit hypocritical considering how many times we ignored Mallory's orders and escaped this place" How the advisor had never snapped and strangled them both, Alec still didn't know; they had been real terrors as children, always in some kind of trouble and evading their punishments.

"You never go back on your words with children"

"How would you know? It's not as if you have brats of your own - or did you hide them from me?" Alec teased, knowing that James wouldn't keep such a secret from him; even if the child was illegitimate, his friend would have come to him for counsel or to simply rant about his bad luck.

"Well, there must be a reason why Mallory never did" James pondered "I'm a failure at this parenting shit"

Alec bumped shoulders with James in mute comfort "You still have time to practice: the brat is young"

"And hopeless" James sighed "We were the same at his age and look at us"

"Yeah, we did really bad: we're just the King of the Empire and the Captain of its guards" Alec joked "Don't worry about him, there's also the High Priest to set him straight"

"Who should be resting instead of entertaining Basil"

Alec sighed "Why are you so enthralled with Q? Is it just the similarities he shares with Vesper? Because it's quite unhealthy and, may I add, quite disrespectful towards the boy" He observed James' expression close off, the playfulness and exasperation towards Basil disappear from his features only to leave an inscrutable mask; it was a clue on its own for Alec who knew him well: evidently, Q was more than just the mirrored and slightly distorted image of Vesper - something more that not even James could exactly pinpoint "He's frail, James: you can't toy with him"

"He's not frail... Something was done to him in the Temple: one doesn't fear touch without reason" James pointed out, looking out of the window to avoid Alec's blue eyes "You were there yesterday"

"He might have been already damaged before he ended up in the Temple"

The King shook his head; something about Q's resigned devotion to the Eternal pointed at a great degree of attempted manipulation and cruel obligation: Q hadn't wanted to be High Priest, he probably had never wanted to join the Cult and loose himself in the depths of an empty god to which he had offered his existence "The former High Priest was a monster"

Alec couldn't disagree with that statement: Q's predecessor had been quite attached to power, riches and, if the whispers were to be believed, the sinful pleasures found only between the thighs of untouched youths "We're too prejudiced against the Cult"

James dropped the topic: it was no use talking to Alec when he got that stubborn "So, how should I punish Basil when he comes back home?"

* * *

Q observed Basil quietly reading at the foot of his bed, curled over the sheets like a lazy cat "The King is going to chain you to a chair for the next month"

"Why don't you call him James?" Basil asked instead of acknowledging the High Priest's words "He calls you Q all the time"

"Well, that's improper" Q retorted, vaguely flustered at the idea of his name being regularly spoken at the Palace.

"Which one?"

Cheeky brat "Both"

Silence filled again the bedroom and the itch of boredom started to gnaw at Q's mind, making him unnervingly restless; he had never been fond of spending his days doing nothing in bed - the reasons why were something he didn't really wish to ponder upon - and was so unused to having time to himself that he didn't know to do with it "What are you reading?"

Basil looked at the cover and frowned "I don't know, something boring" He knew how to read - but just a little and the book didn't have any pictures in it.

Q sighed and plucked the book out of Basil's hands "Well, I think you're hardly interested in a dissertation on the nature of the Eternal"

"That explains the lack of pictures" Basil sighed "Can we do something?"

"What would you like to do?" Q curiously inquired: his childhood hadn't been exactly normal, he didn't know what bored children got up to.

Basil scuttled up the bed, still at a safe distance from Q's skin but much more closer than before "We could go out"

"I'm sick" Q emphatically waved a hand over the messy bed on which they were laying.

"You're not"

Q quite agreed with the statement, the fever had broken long before he woke up that morning and his exhaustion had been taken care of by small but substantial meals and a whole half day of resting "You promised Bill you wouldn't tire me" he reminded the child.

"I also promised James I wouldn't leave the Palace alone" Basil replied cheekily "So?"

Q was quite sick of his bedroom, to be honest "Alright, but it won't be easy"

* * *

Alec squinted at the two youths perched on the branch of a tree on his way to the Temple to retrieve the little scoundrel for his punishment, his eyes inexplicably focusing on their heads bent together so closely that black curls mingled together with honey-brown strands. The closer he got, the hardest it became to shift his attention from the boys; everything about them called out to him, from the strange distance between their bodies to the cadence of their voices - they were terribly familiar and Alec was almost ready to swear he had already seen that green shirt quite up close.

Realisation dawned upon him like a wall crumbling on his head "What are you two doing up there?!"

The boys looked down at him as if they had been caught with their fingers in the proverbial pies. Basil immediately regained his composure and started to merrily swing his legs - a mocking taunting - while Q pinched his mouth and blushed deeply.

"Hi, uncle Alec" Basil grinned and waved childishly.

"Don't uncle me, Basil" Alec scowled "And shouldn't you be in bed, your Grace?"

Q frowned at being reprimanded like a disobedient child "I don't answer to you" he spat out defensively, tucking his long legs under his bum.

"Get down here" Alec ordered and watched them climb down the tree, mildly surprised by Q's agility "I suppose nobody in the Temple knows you're out here, climbing trees like a little monkey" He barely resisted the urge to mess with the other's curls, remembering at the last minute the reaction Q had to touch.

"It's not as if I'm bound to tell the priests everything: I'm an independent adult!"

Basil immediately backed him up, squirming closer to the High Priest. They looked like brothers, both dressed in casual but clearly expensive clothes and their similar complexion "There's not even a window in his rooms! We were dying"

Alec sighed "And to think that I told James he doesn't need to be good at parenting because there's you to set the brat straight - I was so wrong" He gestured for Basil to climb on the horse, who obeyed only when Q nudged him with just the pads of his fingers "Come on, we'll escort you back to the Temple before going to the Palace"

"There's no need, really..."

"Oh, can't he come home with us?" Basil pleaded, pouting and batting his eyelashes at Alec.

"Yes, you need an escort. And no, Basil, we can't abduct the High Priest of the Cult just because we fancied having dinner together"

"It's a perfectly polite invitation" Basil retorted.

Before he could get too upset, Q smiled at him "I'm sorry, dear, but I really can't"

Alec consoled Basil with a pat on the shoulder and an affectionate kiss to his temple - a gesture that inexplicably made Q flinch as if disgusted and mildly terrified; James words about the horrible character of Q's predecessor waltzed through his mind "Though, you can politely invite the High Priest to the picnic we're having on Sunday's morning"

"Really? Will you come, Q?"

"Of course, if I don't end up locked up in the Temple for disobeying the doctors' orders"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spiderwort flowers symbolise esteem for the receiver.


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What happened?" James foolishly enquired, knowing that dreamily ghosts answered in riddled words that would plague his waking hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I particularly like this chapter, folks, so I hope you enjoy it too! 
> 
> You have all my gratitude for giving this story a chance and an amazing feedback ♥

_10_

James squinted at the image playing in front of his eyes, knowing perfectly well that it couldn't be real for two very consistent reasons: Vesper was definitely dead and couldn't be smiling at him from her perch and Q would have never let anyone so carelessly sling an arm around his waist. Both were dressed in crimson, accents of gold here and there to make their irises sparkle in the soft sunlight, heads bent together so that it was impossible to tell where one's hair finished and the other's begun, tangling together in a a mess of barely tamed curls to frame their sharp-edged faces.

The closeness made it easier to spot the differences between them, to separate the frame of the High Priest from the one of the woman he had once loved; it was as if his mind was offering him a chance to disassociate the two, bringing them into focus.

James was stunned to realise how truly appealing he found Q with his graceful fluttering hands and tenderly uneasy smiles.

"Look, Q! It's James!" Vesper buffed the High Priest on a cheek to make him look towards the ground, where James was standing rather awkwardly at the base of the tree they had climbed "Come on, join us!"

Q waved his fingers in greeting, a gesture James was quite sure Q would never employ in the realm outside of his dreams "Don't worry about the frailty of the branch: it's quite sturdy!" he reassured, bouncing a bit on the wood to prove his point; Vesper immediately joined him and the tinkling sound of their delighted laughs soared in the crystal clear blue sky.

James almost found himself too weirded out by what his subconscious had dished out for him and it was only warily that he decided to join them, ascending slowly along the wide trunk of the tree smelling of dusty wood and resin "What are you two doing up here?" he enquired as he was dangerously shuffled to sit in between them, surrounded by crimson cloths and pale limbs.

Vesper's fingers deftly got rid of a leaf that had gotten stuck in the collar of his shirt, her trimmed nails lightly scratching at his neck "We're enjoying the view" she vaguely gestured at the unfamiliar landscape leisurely stretched out in front of them: veiled by azure fog, barren and black mountains loomed over a field of heather.

"And to enjoy the shade" Q quipped in, childishly swinging his legs "It's quite hot today" he pointed out, shooting Vesper a playful glare as if the uncomfortably high temperature was her fault.

Vesper rolled her eyes and leaned in to pinch Q's side, dangerously upsetting their balance "Some sunlight wouldn't hurt you" she tutted "Tell him, James: our Q needs to come out of the Temple more often" she mock whispered in his ear while winking at Q, who huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Someone needs to pray for you two" the High Priest sighed, haughtily scrunching up his nose before he dissolved into a fit of giggles as Vesper tickled him and James was obliged to grab at his spasming body to keep him from falling down: it was so weird, being able to touch Q without fear and pain lurking in the shadows of his green eyes "Vesper!"

"Stop it, you two" James intimated, watching them both with barely hidden surprise and incredulity, eyes carefully trained on those strange projections of his mind: Vesper and Q had never been so childish and carefree, haunted as they were by their pasts "Just stop it"

They sobered so suddenly that the absence of their laughs was almost physically painful; they retracted their limbs and forced them into primly sitting as if they were lounging on a throne instead of a tree branch; they wiped any colourful expression from their astonishingly ethereal features - in a bad omen, the red of their robes saturated into riper shade. Under their dangling legs, the sea of grass had melt into a startlingly blue frozen lake, which depths were as dark as a night sky inhabited by a new moon.

"What happened?" James foolishly enquired, knowing that dreamily ghosts answered in riddled words that would plague his waking hours.

Q turned his suddenly painted face towards him "You know what happened to me, your Highness" Golden lips parted around the ominous words and his black-rimmed eyes flashed an almost supernatural green "You know what he did to me" His voice broke into a frail whisper, as thin as trickling water.

"He?" James wanted to touch Q but instinctively knew that a shift had happened and that the feeling of the pads of his fingers brushing that chalked skin wouldn't be well received "Who?"

"The High Priest" Vesper's answered in Q's stead, her voice as bitter as poison.

"What would you know about it?" James challenged, the old sense of betrayal uncomfortably bubbling in his lungs "What happened to you?"

"I drowned into a lake, didn't I? You were there, if I recall correctly" She pointed downwards, nonchalant and uncaring, and James choked: beneath the ice, a red-clad corpse was lulled by invisible streams moving the cold water "There were reasons why I wanted the Cult and the Empire destroyed: our little Q was one of them"

"Who else knew?" The thought of other people knowing about the supposed abuse Q had endured for all his childhood and teenage years and no one doing raising a finger to stop it, made James sick to the stomach and unbelievably angry.

"The Rebels and everyone in the Temple - for so many people knowing about it, it's a strangely well-kept secret" Q's voice rung apathetic in the air growing colder by the minute and his breath clouded thickly out of his mouth "It will come to the light, though: such spectres never stay in the dark"

"There are no proofs" Vesper pointed out, while morbidly studying the way her corpse effortlessly floated under the limpid blue ice.

"Touch me and I turn into a screaming proof" Q exhaled, spreading his hands in a show of naked helplessness.

"True" Vesper conceded.

"What's the point of this conversation?" James studied them warily.

"You tell us, your Highness" Q murmured, flashing him a plastic smile "We're puppets for your imagination to play with"

"Soundboards for your conjectures" Vesper added "Certainly better than speaking to yourself, isn't it?" she chuckled, incomprehensibly amused by the scenario in which she had been forced to act.

Q arched an eyebrow as if unconvinced by Vesper's opinion, probably thinking that talking to a dead traitorous lover and a blossoming untouchable obsession was rather masochistic "So, your Highness, are you ready to wake up?"

* * *

Alec slipped strawberry-flavoured marmalade on James' plate and quietly observed as he slathered it on a bite of bread and peacefully ate it - no spluttering, no cursing, no grimaces of distaste: it wasn't normal.

Next to him, Mallory frowned as he recollected the many times Alec had pranked James in the same manner and the heavily disgusted reactions that had ensued: James had never liked that particular kind of spread, claiming that it was too sugary for his tastes - and there he was, eating it without a flinch.

Perplexed, Basil tugged at Eve's skirt "What's wrong?" he whispered in her ear.

Eve looked up from her breakfast "Since when do you eat marmalade?" she asked, pointing with her fork towards the telling red smudge on his plate.

James looked down, frowning darkly "Who the hell put marmalade in front of me?" He grabbed a glassful of water to wash the taste out of his mouth, now that he was focused enough to feel it poisoning his taste buds.

Alec shrugged "It was a test, you seem out of your mind this morning"

"Charming" James grimaced and excused himself from the table "I'm going for a ride" he informed them as he walked out of the dining hall . He didn't even stop by his rooms to change into the more comfortable riding gear and quickly made his way towards the stables, barely greeting the people thrumming along the corridors of the Palace and who hastily bowed at his passage.

As per orders, his horse was left alone; James enjoyed personally taking care of the deep brown-mantled stallion that Mallory had gifted him when his eight-year long period of regency had finished and James had been crowned King of the Empire - the youngest ever since the Empire was born, barely eighteen years old and a crown too heavy for his head. Octavius was a fierce and powerful beast that James had never really managed to tame and that obeyed him just because his persistence and stubbornness had probably earned him its respect "We're going out for some air" James gently caressed the thick and darker shaded mane, before forcing the reins and the saddle on its rebellious frame.

James wandered the fields without a destination on mind, letting Octavius gallop freely in the wilderness; he just needed the action to forget everything about the dream that incessantly gnawed at his brain, making his focus on real life waver rather unnervingly. As if reading his mind, Octavius led him towards the furthest side of the Temple, where the balconies and the windows of the priests' apartments overlooked the streets - considerably better placed than the High Priest's chambers that didn't even have a window to clear the thick and incense-spiked air.

"Can I help you, your Highness?"

James looked down at the priest clad in simple and stark white robes and recognised him from the first meeting with the newly crowned High Priest "I think we haven't been introduced last time, Revered"

"Bill Tanner" the priest answered drily at the implicit question, an enigmatic and clever smile stretching his thin mouth that still managed to look friendly - possibly, it was the first priest James met and didn't feel the itch to punch in the nose.

"Revered Tanner" James offered his hand and was amazed to feel callouses under his digits, clear sign that the priest wasn't a lazy individual "I just let my horse wander at its will and here we happened"

Bill hummed in understanding "The High Priest claims that's more freeing, not steering into a particular direction one's mount"

"I've heard from the captain of my guards that he's quite the jockey" James mused, wishing he could have seen the usually composed man exert his body in an activity as strenuous and demanding as riding a horse.

"It was a surprise even for me, your Highness, and I've taught the High Priest how to read and write" Bill's amazement still rung in his voice together with a warm note of ridiculous pride: it wasn't as if Q was his son, despite having basically raised him "Well, since you're here your Highness, would you like to meet the High Priest?" Q needed more social interaction and Bill firmly believed that with his no-nonsense attitude and brutal honesty, the King would be good for Q's barely existing social skills.

James wasn't one to refuse an opportunity to unravel a mystery, he had been one of those obnoxious children that incessantly poked at hurting teeth with his tongue "I wouldn't impose on the High Priest's schedule"

Bill waved a hand "You won't be bothering him, your Highness. And I know for sure that he wished to thank you for the lovely flowers you sent over the other morning" Slowly wilting, the spiderwort flowers were still a livening splash of blue in Q's bedroom.

"It was nothing" James shrugged, as if he hadn't spent hours wandering the gardens of the Palace in search of the perfect blossoms amidst the great variety of plants offered to him "It would be my pleasure to meet the High Priest, Revered Tanner"

* * *

"Your Grace, there's a visitor for you"

Q turned to look questioningly at Bill, a booklet of scribbled prayers hanging open in his hands "Who?"

"His Highness" Bill revealed, grinning as he noticed the subtle tells of Q's nervousness appearing like snails after a rainy afternoon: the fingers that immediately went to comb his hopelessly messy curls, the quick glance at the mirror to ashamedly ascertain that his face was clear of any chalk, a hand self-consciously smoothing the simple robes swathing his body.

"Why?" Q asked, grimacing at hearing the fearfulness in his own voice.

"A social call, nothing more evil than that" Bill reassured him "I'll lead him in" he announced and disappeared outside before Q could start protesting.

Q blinked at Bill's rapidly retreating back as he let his body fall onto the chair into a graceful heap, waiting for his unexpected visitor; thinking about the past, Q couldn't recall a time during which the King had so frequently visited the Temple and interacted with his predecessor. Despite being always ensconced in the dark, obsessively hidden from sight, Q had secretly witnessed many meetings and formed his own opinion about the discussed issues and the people coming and going from the High Priest's halls.

"I see I'm not the only one easily distracted this morning" James drawled lowly, making the other man's eyes snap up to focus on him "Well met, Q" he greeted with a smile while subtly studying the man in front of him: Q was nothing like he had been in his dream, rather a balanced mixture of the two personas his brain had projected - it was relieving, in a way "My horse led me outside of the Temple, Revered Tanner did the rest" he answered at the unspoken question.

"Apologies for my rudeness" Q could feel bright red splotches blossom under his skin and he cleared his throat in an attempt at earn some control back "Please, make yourself comfortable" he invited, closing his book to focus on his guest "Did you already have breakfast?"

"Somewhat" James sat in front of Q "It was spoiled by a prank"

"Oh, I'll have words with Basil"

"It wasn't him: he's an exceptionally well-behaved child, if one doesn't keep track of his escapades" James reassured hastily reassured him "It was Alec. He thought it funny to put marmalade on my plate to verify my alertness this morning: in afraid my taste buds will never forgive me for failing that particular test any time soon"

Q smiled "I can call for something to eat, if you'd like"

James shook his head to decline the offer "I dreamt about you tonight"

How was he supposed to react or respond, Q didn't know; it wasn't as if people came to him to describe the landscapes carefully crafted by their subconscious and Q himself had never shared the contents of his horrifying dreams, deeming them too intimate to put into words for others to listen to "Probably a nightmare, then" he resorted to say jokingly.

"It was.. Interesting. We were sitting on a tree branch together with someone I cared about very much and who died some years ago" James omitted to say Vesper's name, not wanting to describe the dream in great detail - but he needed to strip the High Priest of all his masks and layers, if he wanted to trust him and do something to destroy the rebels "What happened?"

Q blinked, puzzlement etching a frown in his forehead "I'm sorry, what?"

"That's the question I asked you in my dream" James explained, shrugging a bit to distract Q with his nonchalance "Your answer stated that I already knew what has been done to you"

Q froze in his chair; his instincts screamed at him to joke and tell the King that he was basing his conjectures on a dream, while the more rational part of his brain unhelpfully reminded him that dreams were a gift of the Eternal, loaded with obscure secrets "You know what happened to me"

The words echoed in James' mind with a dreamlike quality to them "Is that an affirmation or a question?"

"Both"

"I've got a theory" he addressed the inquiring quality of the sentence. Before unveiling his conjecture, James took a steading breath while he tried to decide hoe blunt to be "The former High Priest abused you"

Having someone estranged to the life in the Temple state the truth so candidly and devoid of any embellishment to sweeten the pill, it was one of Q's most dreaded nightmares coming to reality. He looked into the King's dispassionately cold irises, he let that iciness seep into his own soul and steeled himself as he pondered how to answer: he wanted the King as an ally and he knew that the only way to earn his trust was honesty "Yes"

Everything - terror, pain, shame, hopelessness - echoed in that dry syllable "I hoped to be wrong" James relaxed his posture, slouching a bit in his seat "You let him be buried with all honours"

"I couldn't exactly tell everyone about what he did to me: can you imagine the scandal?" Q pointed out.

"You're the victim: you don't have anything to be ashamed of"

"I'm supposed to be pure and untouched" Q couldn't help but feel as an imposter every time he put the circlet in his hair and cradled in his hands the flower crowns the other priests braided for him "The Eternal's vessel should be untainted"

"Q, you were raped: in every way that counts, you're still a virgin" James wanted to get up and shake Q loose from the shackles of fear holding him down "Do you understand me?"

Q didn't understand: everyone, even Bill, had quietly concurred with him about his being hopelessly spoiled for the Eternal, despite not having been his fault "The Eternal alone will be my impartial Judge" As the King opened his mouth to protest, Q raised an hand to stop him "Please, let my demons rest"

James pursed his mouth but didn't force the conversation to stay on the same topic and let Q steer it towards other more pleasant and mundane subjects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heather meaning changes according to its colour: white means protection and the realisation of dreams, while lavander stands for admiration and solitude; the spiderwort flowers are used to indicate the respect one has for the receiver.


	11. 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I didn't realise you're the handholding type, your Highness” Q tried to tease but it came out a hollow “So, politics?” he changed theme, hoping that the King would follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I have to give my thanks to my adored @fellowshipofthegay for the support and the brilliant conversations.
> 
> Thank you to you all who keep me going with your enthusiasm and nice words, hearing from you is wonderful ♥ 
> 
> A special thanks to the lovely AriGrayson who created a wonderful mix to go with this story! Here's the link: http://8tracks.com/spacegender/selfish-prayers

_ 11  _

In all honesty, after the conversation James had had with Q, he hadn't expected him to keep his promise to Basil and come to their picnic; he had envisioned the High Priest hiding behind his mask of chalk and rouge, ensconced deep in his dark halls festering with the worst kind of dark memories. Defying all expectations, Q was climbing a sturdy tree together with the child while Revered Tanner shouted at them both to be careful "Don't break your necks!" He scowled almost disapprovingly, trying to hide a beaming grin as Mallory joined him, bitching about Basil always getting into trouble and looking ready to give one hell of a lecture about safety and propriety; James winced as his mind resonated with the memories of Mallory's scoldings, triggering his sympathy. 

 

"I'm so glad to be too grown up for a good tongue lashing" Alec sighed in relief, letting himself fall heavily on the slightly damp blanket right next to his childhood friend; he wrinkled his nose as the smell of freshly cut grass started bothering him "I still have nightmares about Mallory's speeches" he confessed, throwing his forearm over his eyes to shadow them from the bright sunlight as he settled for a well-deserved nap.

 

James muffled a laugh "Technically, we still get lectured: you simply learned how to use selective hearing to exclude his voice when he starts preaching" He pinched Alec's side just to annoy him and quickly got out of the way of his friend's blind punch aimed at his thigh; just to be sure he wouldn't be victim of retaliation, James leaned on his elbows as far away as possible from Alec while still laying on the blanket. He turned his head once again to watch the shenanigans taking place under the tree and grinned when he spotted Q stretching leisurely on a branch, back resting against the rough trunk that was undoubtedly ruining the sheer fabric of his black robe that made his skin look even paler than usual; a few branches below, Basil was quarrelling with Mallory and Tanner about how much higher he was allowed to climb in a rather loud voice.

 

"But I want to go to Q!" Basil whined, firmly attached to his perch.

 

Alec kicked James in the shin "I need sleep: make the racket stop" he complained, never removing his arm from his face.

 

James sighed fondly and got up, stretching leisurely in the sun he so rarely managed to enjoy "Get down, Basil" he ordered when he strode at the base of the three, standing next to Revered Tanner and Mallory; he employed his best stern face, the one that made even Basil subside and obey. The child climbed down rather quickly but ungracefully, still a bit wobbly as if not sure of his balance, glaring alternatively at the ground and at the bark of the tree to show his displeasure "You can annoy uncle Alec" he offered in consolation, ruffling the honey-coloured strands of his hair; Basil stomped towards the spread blankets without shooting him more than an irritated glance.

 

"You should come down too, your Grace" Bill quietly said to Q, who nodded in agreement. Bill smiled at him and followed the stroppy child together with Mallory, trying to reach him before he climbed on another tree or disappeared into the forest.

 

Q stretched on his branch before quickly climbing down. He blushed as he felt the King's eyes on him and tugged the hem of the black robe that had gotten wrapped around a protuberance in the bark, exposing his milky-white legs up to his knees "Trousers would probably be a wiser garment to wear when climbing trees"

 

James grinned at the vaguely annoyed inflection in Q's voice "You didn't rip your robe" he pointed out, paying a veiled compliment to his agility. He sat down on the soft grass and patted down next to him "Let's talk politics while we're alone"

 

Q gingerly joined the King, leaving behind them enough space that Basil could have sat between them "I thought you usually took mornings like this to rest" He hugged his knees to his chest and pillowed his cheek on them; a curl fell in his eye and he irritatedly blew at it, trying to make it move - for a second, the image of the former High Priest tenderly tucking a sweaty strand behind his ear overwhelmed him and Q closed his eyes to shake it away. When he opened them again, his pupils zeroed in on the fingertips hovering over his skin - if they were a threat or an anchor of salvation, Q didn’t actually know “I’m tired of being so afraid” he sighed almost absentmindedly, the words leaving his throat before passing through the filter in his brain that would have buried them somewhere deep and hidden.

 

“Living in fear is horrible” James concurred, slowly lowering his digits to barely caress the other man’s cheek “It crushes you and makes you nothing: you’re stronger than that” He hooked the offending curl with a finger and pushed it back, where it got lost amidst the others. As he started to retract his hand, Q grabbed it and brought it again close to his skin; James could feel the terrified trembling in his taut tendons and he lost himself in his green irises looking up at him, shiny with unshed tears and desperation.

 

“Don’t let me become nothing” Q ordered the King, keeping his voice as firm as possible while he forced himself to endure the physical contact: James’ hand was warm and dry, made a bit rough by calluses, so big that it effortlessly enveloped the side of his face from temple to his chin; it wasn't an ugly hand, but it still made him shudder in revulsion and fear. When he felt James slightly tug to free it, Q entwined their fingers together and pushed his palm more firmly against his skin “It's not so terrible when I'm the one controlling contact”

 

“You passed out when you offered me your hand in the Temple” James reminded him, trying to relax the muscles in his hand so that the tension wouldn't inadvertently trigger Q. 

 

“They were watching me”

 

James didn't need Q to exactly say who he was talking about; he remembered his dream, Vesper telling him that everyone in the Temple had known about Q's horrid abuse and done nothing to keep him from harm - not even Revered Tanner, who seemed to be one of the few human beings Q so implicitly trusted “You're crying” he uselessly pointed out, swiping at the lonely tear with his thumb: he had never seen a person so naked while being still dressed “Don't torture yourself like this” James slowly removed his hand from Q's face but kept their fingers interlaced “This works just fine for now”

 

“I didn't realise you're the handholding type, your Highness” Q tried to tease but it came out a hollow “So, politics?” he changed theme, hoping that the King would follow.

 

“We need to persuade the population we're working together to fight the rebellion”

 

“We've been seen together quite a bit” Q didn't know what they could do more, it already held great significance that the infidel King would regularly attend mass and seemed to pay attention to the hymns and sermons “And before you suggest for us to be closer in public, it can't be done: I'm the vessel of the Eternal, I need to be..”

 

“Untouchable” James finished the sentence, furrowing his brow “Your predecessor didn't present himself as you do to the public” The former High Priest had been quite the sociable being and almost brutally enjoyed life, taking whatever he wanted. 

 

“One of the reasons why I was elected as his successor: I am the opposite as he was” Q looked away from James and their entwined hands, focusing on the other people populating the field edged by the forest: Trevelyan still slept on the blankets, seemingly unaware of what was happening around him; Basil was eating one of the pastries for after lunch, surreptitiously looking around himself to make sure nobody saw him; Mallory and Bill were walking along an invisible path, heads bent together enraptured in their conversation “Young and devoted” he murmured the words the other priests had said as a justification for his election “A rectifying hand”

 

“They can't expect you to reform the Cult on your own” as a King ruling the Empire, James knew that his efforts and guidance alone weren't enough to keep such an institution functioning: it took trusted collaborators driven by the same desires, a certain kind of people that clearly lacked in the dark bowels of the Temple.

 

“The Cult doesn't want to be reformed” Q had been made High Priest just to convince the public that something was being done to purify the Cult of vice. 

 

James hadn't any answers to offer to that sentence and just nodded his understanding, refraining from slandering Q's faith as he was used to do: the High Priest believed rather firmly in the Eternal, the idea of a deity waiting for Judgement somehow comforted him; despite his mother having been a faithful acolyte, the concept was foreign to James and he didn't particularly bother to understand it - the Infidel King “The fire was the first attack after you became High Priest” he redirected their conversation on the problematic at hand. 

 

Naturally, Q had noticed how the pattern of the attacks had changed since he had been crowned with gold and flowers behind the altar “They need proofs to expose me: the fire was a distraction to keep us from focusing on the fact that they know I'm an imposter” The Rebels wanted to destroy the order of things and making both the Cult and the Empire crumble would ensure the chaos they would need to reshape the world “I'll be brought down, sooner or later, and they'll try to make you fall too” 

 

James sighed “I know” Absentmindedly, he squeezed softly Q’s hand in an attempt at comforting him: he wasn't good with words - especially compared to Q - and he had always trusted more physical contact; lying with bodies was way more difficult than with one's voice. 

 

“This is weird” Q stated, frowning slightly as he uncurled himself. He held up their entwined hands to show James his point “I've never done this”

 

The real wonderment and confusion in the younger man's voice made James’ stomach twist uncomfortably as the familiar anger simmered low in his lungs, making it almost difficult to breathe “Do you like it?”

 

“It's not as bad as it was in the beginning” The former High Priest had never held Q's hand so, the affectionate gesture hadn't been tainted by his perversion; apart from the itching feeling the physical contact roused in him, handholding didn't seem too bad - especially since James hadn't grabbed his hand and started to tug him around, but had let him take the lead of their interaction “Does my hand feel sweaty or icky?” he asked, afraid that his hold might be uncomfortable for James.

 

“Not at all. Your hand is very smooth and dry, a bit cold” James reassured him; he wanted to tell Q to just relax and enjoy such a natural thing as holding hands - but nothing regarding normal physical interactions was normal for Q, who had learnt to fear touch so early in his life “You're doing great, don't worry” He smiled tenderly, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles; Q's hand twitched a bit in his, but slowly relaxed once the harmless contact registered in his mind. 

 

“This is hardly proper”

 

“Nobody here cares about propriety, Q” 

 

They fell silent. It was comfortable and light, despite the issues weighing down on their shoulders; both were used to always be open and communicative in public, pillars of stability and comfort for people. It was tiring in the long run, more so for Q than for James: people came to the High Priest in search of salvation, while they went to the King for the resolution of more practical problems - an easier burden, certainly.

 

From the other side of the field, Revered Tanner and Mallory covertly observed the two men, while also keeping an eye on Basil who was exploring the edge of the forest, peering in the emerald shaded darkness amidst the trees. 

 

“This is not the kind of alliance I hoped for” Gareth stated, not unkindly but clearly disapproving of the unexpected course the political alliance had taken “It won't end well” He frowned and focused on the priest standing next to him in his stark white robe decorated at the hem with a silvery filigree. 

 

Bill sighed “Neither did I, actually” he concurred, a sad frown marring his usually distended forehead. On the one hand, he couldn't help being happy at the image of Q slowly opening himself to touch while on the other one, he knew that physical closeness to the King wasn't proper for the High Priest of the Cult: he couldn't afford his purity to be doubted, especially in those times of unrest “I can assure you though, that his Grace has no intention of tricking his Highness: he's genuine in his interactions with the King”

 

Gareth nodded, his eyes focused on the way James smiled at the young High Priest. He couldn't offer the Revered the same certainty: Vesper's spectre still haunted James, in a way that made it difficult to tell what exactly he saw when he looked at the beautiful young man with the pale skin and the ringlets of black hair, framing green irises and  melancholic features “I suppose we'll see how this situation plays out in the end”

 

In the distance, James slowly slid closer to Q and braided daisies in his curls, nodding at whatever the other man was saying. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daisies have a multitude of meanings: innocence (especially those with an extremely pale centre), purity, true love (because each daisy flower is really two flowers blended together in harmony), new beginnings and that the person gifting them can keep a secret.


	12. 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q hoped with all of himself that he was just hallucinating the lips mockingly kissing his cheek.

_12_

The Temple was brimming with acolytes - a bright sea of people clad in oranges and yellows, crowned in pale lotuses that shadowed everyone's faces with their large petals - and above them stood tall the High Priest, a beatific smile painted in rusty reddish-brown on his lips and hands dripping with golden paint so thick that could have been blood. Q shone as bright as the Sun the acolytes of the Cult were celebrating, surrounded by the foggy halo of incense burning upon the altars and that somehow made him seem even more of a deity amongst humans.

James couldn't help letting a bitter smirk blossom on his mouth: he supposed that the Cult wasn't able to avoid that bit of useless dramatics, even when at its head there was someone as sombre and collected as Q. Despite that, the ceremony managed to capture his interest for the first time in many years and he actually paid attention, helped by Basil who dutifully whispered in his ear what a particular gesture or sentence meant: the kid was remarkably instructed when it came to religious matters and James didn't actually know what to make of it - surely, he hoped that the kind of worship Basil had developed towards Q wouldn't lead him to choose a path in the Cult.

The celebrations were making everyone clearly giddy and when Q smiled, his teeth gleamed as white as pearls in the swirling darkness silhouetting his thin body. As far as James could remember, the Rebirth was one of the few truly joyous festivities in the Cult's repertoire and it lacked the aura of impending doom that usually made James wonder what people actually saw in the frigid Eternal.

"What is it that is supposed to be born again?" Alec inquired discreetly, trying not to attract Mallory's resigned glare upon himself: according to the advisor, that kind of knowledge should have been instilled already in his mind since a long time, quite an important part in his education "I mean, isn't the Eternal supposed to be... eternal?"

James made sure to keep his eyes on the High Priest as he turned his head slightly to answer Alec's inquiry "The Sun - apparently the Cult doesn't wait the full blooming of the warm season to celebrate the lengthening of days" Before Alec could say anything incriminating in the middle of mass, James nudged him with his elbow "I know: it doesn't make sense"

As if hearing their murmured words, Q's brilliant green eyes looked at them: the glance didn't linger like it would have, had they been in the privacy of a locked room but still James felt himself captivated by the intensity of the universe shimmering in the pitch blackness of his pupils.

"Easy for you to endure this: you're admiring the view" Alec teased lightly, nodding towards the High Priest in a way that clearly suggested how it was Q's enticing appearance that was holding James' attention. Beneath the careless words though, Alec was worried about the focus with which his friend seemed fixated on the High Priest - a young man who had been so thoroughly broken in order to become an untouchable and living shrine to a deity: the King was setting himself for heartbreak and didn't even seem to realise it.

Covertly, Alec looked around them in search of suspicious and knowing gazes; unsurprisingly, his hawkish eyes found them: people were bound to start being perplexed by the way the King looked at the High Priest and their publicly displayed bond didn't do anything to assuage the fears that the two men were involved in something unholy - after all, nobody had ever resisted the King's artful seduction.

It was dangerous - rarely devotees took well the falling from grace of an Idol, especially one as well liked as Q. The situation was made worse by the subtle war between the Cult and the Empire, something that wouldn't be forgotten by the people only because the King seemed to get along better with the new High Priest: if Q and James weren't careful, it was bound to end in blood - the Rebels surely wouldn't throw away such a fortuitous set of circumstances and they'd use the brimming scandal to finally erase the order of things.

"Uncle Alec, stop frowning so much" Basil muttered, almost climbing in the other man's lap to attract his attention; the ceremony was starting to bore him, protracting too long in the afternoon when he just wanted to spar with Alec and Eve or sleep under a tree in the garden.

Alec looked down at Basil and smiled at him "I'm sorry, I was distracted"

"Was it a bad thought? It looked like a bad thought"

Alec nodded "Yes, it wa-"

"FOR THE NEW WORLD!" the disembodied shout cut off Alec's words and he instinctively jumped up, hand tucking Basil behind his back to protect him while he tried to understand what was happening: black capes emerged from under brightly coloured garments, swarming the Great Hall of the Temple, screams of terror started to fill the room - never before Alec had missed the chorus of a prayer being uttered.

James rose from his seat, flintlock pistol already in hand and aimed at the black-caped figures trying to get close to Q who, instead of finding refuge in the labyrinthic innards of the Temple, was trying to save as many people as possible, hastily directing them towards safe rooms "RUN! Q, RUN AWAY!" James shouted to make himself be heard over the noise, uncaring that so many people would acknowledge he was on a first name basis with the High Priest and draw their malicious conclusions.

Q briefly turned his head and shook it, the lotuses falling to the earth like snow: he couldn't leave his people alone. He couldn't understand how he hadn't noticed the black capes hiding in the audience, clearly waiting for the apex of the celebration to break their peaceful gathering and create chaos - he should have seen them and, somehow, helped the people to escape before the Temple turned in a slaughterhouse; when blood spattered on his cheek, Q flinched and he almost lost his balance and fell into the panicking crowd: the King and many other guards were shooting at anyone suspicious coming near him, creating an almost ritualistic circle of dead bodies around the altar "STOP IT!" Q screamed to nobody in particular, just hoping that he would be heard and obeyed.

"I need to go to Q" James growled to Alec before tugging Basil close and entrusting him to Mallory's care "Get out of here!"

"I can fight!" the advisor complained, but he hoisted a crying Basil in his arms and made him tuck his head in his chest where it would be best shielded: he would protect the boy with his body if he had to.

"JUST GO!" There wasn't any time to worry about protecting Basil too and, while being a skilled fighter, Mallory's true worth sat in his organisational and diplomatic skills: in case James fell or was seriously injured, the Palace needed the advisor to keep working like the oiled machine that it was. So, James ordered him to run before turning to face the enemies, drawing his sword when the pistol ran out of bullets and charging towards the rebels in an attempt at defending his people.

When he raised his eyes, Q had disappeared: there was only chaos and emptiness left in his stead: he had failed him. 

* * *

Q had passed out when someone had rudely grabbed him, fingers digging in his muscles like fiery brands that made him desperate to get away from the searing sensation: in that moment, his mind had regressed to that of a child and he couldn't do anything but try to wriggle away, while his mind tricked him into thinking it was the former High Priest holding him prisoner against his chest, like it had happened so many other times in the past - a never-ending abuse looping in his brain, even when he had seen the man's ashes scatter in the wind.

Q came to in a dark cell, trembling with a mixture of fear and cold that made his muscles lock almost painfully and his bones ache; no matter how hard he tried to peer in the darkness, his pupils were filled by a thick wall of solid shadows - seemingly even more suffocating when humidity started to slither down his throat and stuck to his skin like a veil, slowly chocking him - the fact he couldn't get rid of the slimy feeling because his hands had been bound behind his back, it didn't help at all.

Q managed to restrain himself from asking where he was: firstly, he didn't believe someone was actually guarding him in that moment and secondly, if he was wrong and someone was watching him, he didn't want them to know he had regained his consciousness yet. It was an instinct personal experience had sadly instilled in him and Q would comply to it, knowing it to be a good move: it gave him the advantage to understand the situation and try to make some sort of escape plan before his captors could fling themselves upon him like vultures hungering for a fresh meal.

Not that there was much to understand: he had been kidnapped by the Rebels and left in a dark cellar to wait - for what or whom, he could get begin to think about without panic seizing his mind.

Q tugged hopelessly at the ropes, gritting his teeth as they scraped against the sensitive and delicate flesh of his wrists, in a vain attempt at freeing himself.

"I would stop that, if I were you"

The voice whispering in his ear made Q freeze and strain in his bounds to hear more: he hadn't even perceived the man walk towards him, nor had he heard the sound of a door creaking open. Q had completely been unpleasantly surprised by his captor's appearance and he didn't like the feelings that oily voice was provoking in him, making repulsion and terror seep straight into his marrow.

"Now, there's no need to be so frightened" the man chuckled, his breath brushing the shell of Q's ear "I just want to have a little chat" he added, the words filling the air in a mock hurt tone.

"Do you, really?" As soon as those defiant words escaped his mouth, Q bit down on his tongue: he remembered that back-talking wasn't any good, that it would land him only worse punishment.

But the man in the dark only laughed, a cruel and deep-seated sound that echoed around the walls of the room, making Q understand just how small the space he had been imprisoned in was "Oh, yes - I really do"

Q hoped with all of himself that he was just hallucinating the lips mockingly kissing his cheek. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lotuses symbolise letting go of the past.


End file.
